


If I May Ask

by Sprite_Vodka



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Relationships, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Genji Shimada is a Little Shit, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Torture, Light Angst, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Pining, Rating May Change, Reference to Torture, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, Unreliable Narrator, Warnings May Change, background gencio, background r76, but it happens off screen, genji is never killed by hanzo, he's also rude af but lets not talk about that lmao, i promise i will do everything in my power to make this have a happy ending, like pov switches a lot y i k e s, mostly hanzo and mccree pov, mostly on hanzo's behalf, p much the whole cast is here, reaper and s76 are vigilante buds, reaper never goes to talon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 11:05:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17682245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sprite_Vodka/pseuds/Sprite_Vodka
Summary: Jesse remained silent for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck before letting out a small sigh. “Howdy Winston, s'been a while.”“M-McCree?”“Yeah, it's me, big guy.” He paused for a moment, wondering if he should explain why it took so long to answer his recall, why he hadn't even tried to make any contact in the years before, why he was a wanted man. “I saw yer video,” Winston remained eerily silent so McCree continued, “I'm with ya.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "hey let's post this thing that'll be many parts instead of a oneshot that i can use to get feedback on to make sure i'm characterizing the characters correctly, what could possibly go wrong"

The wind whistling was the only sound loud enough to fill the empty canyon, not even the sound of a wandering animal could stir the peace. One would think that, of all places, the road leading to Deadlock's old hideout would be filled with gunshots, thunderous footsteps, and shouted orders. Now the gorge sat empty and quite, a relic of a time gone by. The old diner there had long since been raided, windows smashed and doors missing. The gas station a ways down was also missing its doors as well as the tools and machinery that once inhabited it, gas all but gone. Further still, the 'little town’ was in no better shape than anywhere else, thick dust unmoving to the wind that blew through the open window frames.

But to Jesse McCree, it was a sight for sore eyes.

No people meant no one could find him, no one knew he was here (unless they followed him, of course, but he always made sure to cover his trail), no one would dare come to the old Deadlock gorge anyways. The gang had long ago been imprisoned or killed by the hands of Overwatch, but in little towns and cities not too far away always feared they would return. Thus, the gorge was left empty, no one daring of disturbing the peace that had settled.

That was fine by McCree as he sprawled out on a ratty old couch in the Cave Inn, the mattress on the bed missing and the television smashed to bits. He was pleased he had found a way into the building's upper floor and found the lock still as janky as the day he called it a second home. He wasn't sure the last time he slept on something somewhat soft, so he was pleased to have found the couch had remained where it was, though he would have rathered sleeping on an actual bed for once.

It wasn't his room from back in the day, but McCree liked to rent the room when he wanted out of the barracks further in. It also helped when the boys had one too many to drink and started up stupid games where someone always either died or lost a limb.

The night Overwatch showed up was one of those nights, Frankie and Joey had suggested roulette with a box of dud grenades and Jesse was more than happy to hightail it out of there to his own private sanctuary. He had been dozing when the alarm sounded, alerting the base of an attack. It had startled him awake only to find the barrels of two twin shotguns in his face, his own gun on the other side of the room with his half empty bottle of whiskey and his stun grenades.

That was a long time passed, though, and McCree was back to what he had thought he'd given up forever; an outlaw. He liked to entertain the idea of turning himself in, using the bounty money to bail himself, then get the fuck out of dodge, but he knew they wouldn't be fair like that. Once Jesse was under police custody, he'd be dead before he could even form a plan of escape.

He liked his odds out here better anyways, he only had to look out for himself. He didn't have to trust a soul and he was fine with that, his naïve trust lead to him being the figurehead of Blackwatch's problems when Jack and Gabriel died in the Swiss base explosion. He was Gabe's right hand man, his confidant, his protégé. _Clearly_  he knew what the ever unstable man had planned. He _clearly_  knew, in the final days before he slipped out of town, what Gabe was planning.

He huffed at the idea, wishing he _had_  known what was going on. Maybe both Jack and Gabe would be alive right now if he had pried further into Gabe's life.

Jesse didn't allow himself to continue on that thought, instead flipping out his old communicator that he had been given in his first week of being a Blackwatch agent. He kept it as a reminder that, while his bounty of sixty million called him one thing, he was anything but a criminal.

It had been ages since it could power up, Jesse no longer had the charger and he didn't feel like finding one while his face was plastered on every media outlet available. He didn't want to reminisce about the past anyways, of a time gone by. It hurt to think of Overwatch, it hurt more to see pictures, to ground him in the idea that it wasn't just a bad dream he would soon wake up from.

But, as luck would have it, he had found a battery that would fit from a different phone he had swiped. He figured there wouldn't be any harm in it, he could take a night to himself and bask in the memories, maybe even send a message to see if anyone would respond after downing a bottle of whiskey.

“Ha, right.” He shook his head of the thought as he slid the back open, taking out the poor looking battery and replaced it, humming in approval as the screen almost instantly lit up.

Soon enough, the communicator fully came to life, almost non stop buzzing for a solid minute and a half. He was mildly surprised he had bars out here, even more shocked that one of the messages was from only a month or so ago. He knew phones needed data plans, it was the one reason he refused to pick one up, but this bad boy (not exactly a phone, but ran in a similar function) seemed to be running perfectly fine without one. Maybe an Overwatch thing, maybe a Winston thing. Regardless of how it managed to work, he had been taught to not look a gift horse in the mouth.

Several of the older messages were from former agents, asking where he was and if he had been there when the Swiss base went down, blaming him for being one of the terrorist sleeper agents. Others asked why he didn't bring up what Gabe had planned, saying Jack might have still been alive if he had come forward with information (as if he had any). Fewer yet asked if he was okay, and it pleased him to see Angela and Reinhardt ask identical questions of if he was safe and well the days following his convenient disappearance.

Jesse had a gut reaction to message them, after all these years, but thought against it. He was the sentimental fool who kept little trinkets, not those two. If Reinhardt couldn't carry it, he left it behind, Angela the same. There was no way those two would still have their communicators, both likely broken or close to it. They didn't have _time_  for personal belongings when they were fighting a war, and that was okay; war did crazy, nasty things to civilians and soldiers alike. Angela was helping people in Germany, last he heard, and Reinhardt had been on the front lines up until a few months ago.

He scrolled up to find one of the newer one (sent two years ago) was from Lena, asking if he was okay and wanted somewhere to hide out while he was in the UK. He had been there to follow up a report on himself, claiming that the gunslinger had been responsible for several murders. He quickly found out it was Talon, specifically an assassin with the code name 'Widowmaker’, it was enough for him to stop digging, not wanting to know why they were trying to pin the murders on him.

Lena's kindness and thoughtfulness touched him, but he would never compromise her like that. He was sure she must of had a life by now, he didn't want to taint anything more with his touch than he had to. Just the thought of Widowmaker going after the pilot sent a shiver down his spine, half glad he hadn't tried to seek her out after all.

The newest message was a video sent a month and a half ago, Jesse half surprised Winston had sent it. He didn't peg the ape to be one who cared for the old communicators, but he decided to play the video regardless out of pure curiosity.

Jesse couldn't stop the faint smile as the video started, Winston eating a banana as he fixed the camera. “ _Hmm, is this on_?”

He stifled a laugh as he got comfy, rotating the phone sideways as he fullscreened the video. “It is, big guy.” He mumbled out, feeling a familiar fondness towards the scientist.

His fondness for the ape didn't vanish until he paused the video almost halfway through, staring at a younger version of himself, medal hung around his neck with his head tipped back proudly, an old stetson he owned held close to his chest.

The medal, among other things, was something he had left behind. He was surprised he missed it so much, maybe he could have used it to defend himself, prove he wasn't the villain. It would have been fruitless, though, everyone had already made up their minds about him the day Jack and Gabe died.

He resumed the video, deflating as he waited to hear the very words Gabe had said to get him to join instead of rotting in jail, that he 'mattered’ and was ‘special’. He was just a dumb kid not wanting to go to prison.

“ _You,_ ” Winston paused, sighing deeply as he looked away from his papers. “ _You already know this_.” Jesse blinked, moving to sit up slightly as he bumped his stetson up and out of the way. “ _Look, the people decided they were better off without us. They even called us criminals!_ ” Jesse winced slightly. He knew it wasn't directed at him, but it still hurt to hear it outloud. “ _They tore our family apart. But look around!_ ” Jesse sat up proper now, back rigid against the arm of the couch, his breath catching in his throat as he watched the images flash by. “ _Someone has to do something!_  We _have to do something!_ "

The world really _had_  gone to shit, everyone sitting by and doing nothing while Talon and other criminal organizations monopolized the chaotic energy. It was heartbreaking, but what could the ape and one cowboy do? Would anyone else even come out of hiding? Had anyone else answered the call? “ _We can make a difference again! The world needs is_ now _, more than ever!_ ”

He watched as Winston leaned forward, removing his glasses as he gave a small grin to the camera, Jesse leaning in himself in anticipation. “ _Are you with me?_ ”

Lightening fast, Jesse tore himself up off the couch, dialing the number as he placed his communicator to his ear and listened to it ring, pacing the room as quietly as he could. This was stupid. _He_  was stupid. Winston wouldn't want a criminal working for him, especially not with the large bounty on his head. Jesse was the very person the government and fellow agents blamed for the Swiss base!

Just as he was about to pull the comm away and finally smash the damn thing, the other line picked up as Winston's distinct voice came through. “ _Hello, Winston speaking_.”

Jesse remained silent for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck before letting out a small sigh. “Howdy Winston, s'been a while.”

“ _M-McCree?_ ”

“Yeah, it's me, big guy.” He paused for a moment, wondering if he should explain why it took so long to answer his recall, why he hadn't even tried to make any contact in the years before, why he was a wanted man. “I saw yer video,” Winston remained eerily silent so McCree continued, “I'm with ya.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback and constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!
> 
> This chapter was just under 2k words, would ya'll prefer longer chapters or small chapters?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who needs a significant other when you can read fanfics?

Jesse tipped his head back and let out a low whistle as he watched the very, _very_  small plane land along the dusty top of the canyon, the cowboy confidently walking towards it as the propellers slowed down and came to a halt.

He had expected a bigger plane (obviously not the Orca or Aurora, but _larger_ ), not some little dinky thing that was probably paid for out of pocket with one week's pay and could only fit three, maybe four, people. But the thought was cast away as he saw three flashes of blue light before arms were wrapped around his waist tightly, bright cheery eyes peering up at him. “Jesse! It's been too long, luv!”

He let out a small chuckle as he hugged the British woman back, grinning down at her. “You get'ta see me e'ery day on the news.” He teased, Lena letting out a laugh.

“They don't do your ugly face justice.” She teased right back, pulling away as she smiled up at him. “I thought you'd thrown away your comm when you didn't answer my messages, now I know you were just ignoring me.” The teasing tone hadn't left her voice, but it was enough to make Jesse feel somewhat guilty.

“Battery died and just got a new one, didn’t expect so many death threats if I'm bein’ honest.” Lena gave him a sympathetic look as she rested her hand on his shoulder.

“Don't take it too hard, Jesse, everyone got them.” He just nodded, deciding she was trying to soften the blow, but he knew better than to argue any further on the matter.

They made their way over to the little plane, Lena's mood instantly brightening again as she opened the side door and slid into the cabin and up into the cockpit. Jesse followed in after her, momentarily worried he wouldn't fit, but managed to shimmy in and sat on one of the two small benches in the cabin.

“So, where're we set up? Better not be Russia, they're allowed t'shoot me on sight.” Jesse looked down to the seat as he spoke, letting out a quiet huff when he saw no belts to hold him down. He trusted Lena, already feeling them rekindle their former close friendship, but that didn't ease the fear of flying enough for him to not be buckled to the tin can.

In the Orca, it at least flew steady enough that he could just conveniently pretend that they were in a hovercar. There were also belts to hold them in, not that anyone used them, but dozing off gave McCree an excuse to buckle in for the flight since he claimed he didn't want to fall out of his seat. Jesse was absolutely sure that this little plane wouldn't be able to do anything _but_  waver in the air, disallowing the illusion of a hovercar taking him across the world.

Lena let out a sharp laugh as she flicked some switches and pulled on a headset, grinning back at Jesse. “Nah, just little ol’ Gibraltar, we have a former agent named Mei with us, she's a climatologist. Winston and her are reopening the base for 'science’ reasons, that's why we have people coming in and out.” Jesse was surprised to hear how devious the ape was, he thought Winston was incapable of lying or just not being nice in general. Clearly he had underestimated the scientist.

“So it looks good on paper,” a hum answered him, “that's 'bout'a change if I show up.” Jesse's fingers dug into the thin cushion of the seat as the plane jerked forward, he refused to look scared in front of the little Brit as he did his best to school his face.

“Yeah, bringing Jesse McCree is obviously super suspicious, that's why we're bringing _Joel Morricone_  to write an article on us.” Despite feeling dread as the plane left the ground shakily, he couldn't help but crack a grin at the pilot. “There's a barf bag under your seat if ya need it, luv.”

McCree let out a small huff, grin falling as he crossed his arms over his chest, he wasn't as subtle as he thought he was. “Joel Morricone ain't afraid of planes.” With that, he decided that trying to sleep for most of the flight was his best bet, not wanting to use up any of Lena's supply of bags. “I'm clockin’ out, wake me up before we land.” He moved and laid on his back, legs hanging off the end of the bench at the knee as he moved his hat to cover his eyes. Maybe he could pretend he was in a hammock, the breeze gently rocking him back and forth.

“Got'cha, sleep tight, McCree!” He rolled his eyes slightly but was ultimately warmed that it was _Lena_  who came to pick him up, not some new random recruit or a different former agent. Jesse still didn't know who to trust or, in return, who trusted _him_. He suspected Lena had been Winston's choice, no one could hate the spunky little pilot, and it was damn near impossible to even be angry at her for longer than an hour.

With only a small sigh and the slight roll of his stomach, Jesse crossed his arms behind his head to cushion them and let his eyes slide shut. Despite being in a tin can that was ready to plummet out of the sky with too strong of a breeze, this was the safest he felt in years.

 

.:.

 

Jesse was startled awake as the tin can shook and made a loud groaning noise, the cowboy almost sliding off the bench. Had they been shot down? Currently being attacked? Was it Talon?

He sat upright, knocking his hat from his head as he roughly turned and looked out the tiny window. He squinted his eyes in confusion, not recognizing the scenery around them. They weren't high in the air, but the plane had drastically slowed down and was surrounded by sharp cliffs. Did… did they _land_?

“Sorry I didn't wake ya! Figured you'd be able to sleep through the touchdown!” Lena called, Jesse turning to send a small glare her way.

“I've got a sizable bounty on m'head, if I sleep heavy—”

“My bad, I keep forgetting you've been scapegoated so much.” He blinked as his flare of anger vanished. He often said that in his articles under his pen name, claiming Jesse McCree was used as an excuse to not find the _real_  criminals. It felt good to hear someone had read his articles, or at the very least, shared his opinion.

He quickly waved his hand dismissively to the Brit, grabbing his hat and set it back on his head before straightening out his serape. “Don't you worry 'bout it, darlin’.” As the plane came to a complete stop, he stood and stretched, groaning in pain as he tried to roll his neck to stretch out the kink that had formed there.

The two disembarked the tin can, Jesse more than happy to have his feet firmly planted back on the ground. If he was more into being dramatic, he might have dropped to the soil and kissed it, but right now, all he wanted to do was eat a good meal and tap out for the night.

Lena seemed to sense his need to get moving, leading them away from the landing strip deeper into the island. “I normally just blink my way here, so we'll be walking.” She looked embarrassed but Jesse just gave her an easy smile.

“A little walkin’ ain't ever killed anyone.” Lena let out a small chuckle, keeping pace with McCree as they followed the dirt road.

He hadn't ever been to Watchpoint: Gibraltar, Gabe always kept them either in Switzerland or in the States. He had heard from Moira that Gabe and Winston didn't get along well, but he was sure it was more along the lines of Jack told Gabe to take orders from a literal sentient ape and his commander hadn't liked that. Gabe didn't like a lot of things, but everyone knew that his pride was damn near at the top of his priority list.

“Oh, been meanin’ to ask,” Jesse started, waiting for Lena's permission before continuing. “Who all answered the recall? Don't reckon I wanna go in there caught with m’pants down.”

Lena let out a little laugh as she bounced ahead a couple steps, turning to walk backwards in front of him. “Well, obviously me and Winston answered, same with you.” He gave her an eye roll, earning another laugh before the shorter one was by his side again. “Rein answered and he brought Torb's daughter with him, she's cute, a mechanic, _and_  a medic!” Jesse was surprised to hear they let an outsider in, he had assumed it would be only the former agents, not some teenager following in her father's footsteps, but he didn't know Torbjörn's daughter or how she operated. Plus, they were running a very illegal operation, beggars can't be choosers. “Of course Torb came with them, apparently he convinced Angie to return as well, which is nice.”

Jesse nodded, relieved to at least be seeing some old faces. “Sounds like a mighty fine team.”

Lena's eyes lit up as her grin widened. “I'm not even finished yet! You remember Ana's daughter?”

How could he not? She was _exciting_  and hung around with Jesse and Gabe when Ana let her tag along. She was energetic and full of life right up until her mother was cruelty taken from her. Her father, Sam, quickly came back into her life to pick up the slack, but Jesse never saw her again once she moved up to Canada. Not even a year later, the Swiss base went to hell in a handbasket. He was silently glad she hadn't been there to witness it.

“Yeah, I ‘member Fareeha, cute kid.” Lena let out a short laugh, Jesse quirking up an eyebrow.

“Don't call her that now, she's the security chief for Helix and answered the recall in her mum's place.” He wanted Lena to stop talking about captain Amari, the very woman who taught him how to shoot with Peacekeeper, but he was too afraid to estranged himself from his friend again, so he kept his mouth shut. “So she's here too, but she's kinda like a double agent? Helix would fire her so fast if they found out.” Another laugh came from the Brit, Jesse grateful that she continued on to the other new team members and left the Amari name behind for now.

“We also have some new faces, it'll be easier to meet them once you get settled, but we have Hana, this big Russian lady named Zarya, obviously Mei, _the_  Lúcio Correia dos Santos," as if he knew who that was, "and the two newest guys named Reaper and Soldier: 76.” She made a face at the last two names, Jesse inclined to mimic.

“Ain't they give ya their names?” He asked, curious about the two unnamed men. Those type of people were the most dangerous, they were virtually untraceable if they wanted to be.

Lena shook her head, pouting slightly. “They let Angie run her tests and do examinations, but even _she_  calls them Reaper and 76. I think they were vigilantes before coming here, but getting them to talk is like bathing a cat.” Jesse let out a hum in understanding, feeling like 'Soldier: 76’ should be ringing a bell but wasn't.

“But yeah! That's all we have right now, I'm excited that you answered the recall! No one will say it, but we've all been hoping you'd want to come back, even after Switzerland.” Jesse inadvertently tensed up, there was no room for accusation in her voice as it was filled with joy and happiness, but it still felt wrong to bring up _that_  after what Jesse had been accused of.

He gave her a careful look, finding she was happily bouncing along beside him. He'd rather get it out before he was forced to explain himself later under less caring eyes. “Lena, can we,” he paused for a second to lick his lips nervously. “Can we not talk ‘bout Switzerland?”

She looked up to him, eyes going wide as she stopped and covered her mouth. “I'm sorry! I didn't mean to bring back bad memories!” He quickly shook his head, holding his hands up in front of himself.

“It ain't that—”

“No, I shouldn't have brought it up, and I'll make sure no else does!” The fiery determination in her eyes was enough for him to fall—awkwardly—silent as he rubbed the back of his neck, glad it wouldn't be brought up again but upset that he hadn't been able to properly articulate _why_.

“So, I have to ask,” Lena started up again, breaking the tense silence he had forced upon them. “Did you _actually_  bomb the hypertrain?” Jesse, despite his inner turmoil, barked out a laugh, Lena grinning up at him as he began to recount the exciting adventure of saving innocent lives and throwing an unknown object off the train.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i swear hanzo's in this fic, just, just give it a few //sweats
> 
> As always, thank you for the comments and kudos, constructive criticism is always welcomed!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i actually had this done and ready for a few months, but this chapter, as well as the next three-ish, gave me problems with how i wanted to order it since the pov was switching a few times, hopefully everything isn't _too_ messy feeling lmao

Jesse let out a low whistle as Lena brought him right up to the front doors of the base, wishing Gabe had brought him here at least once before. They had passed by a rocket-looking thing that Lena explained was a satellite, Winston working on expanding their network. They also walked right through a hanger, McCree pouting when he saw the Aurora sitting pretty and all cleaned up, several mechanics working away at it.

Lena had stopped then and called over a redhead, introducing Jesse to Brigitte. Most of her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, grease smeared across her face every which way, and a smile damn near as bright as Lena's. It was hard to imagine the teen being Torbjörn’s daughter, she seemed to be completely opposite (especially the good foot or two she had on her father) but it was refreshing to see a Lindholm that wasn't always cranky.

The other mechanics working with Brigitte were from the old days, Jesse recognizing all three the instant they turned their eyes to him. The two women, one with dark brown skin and the other a pasty white, gave him hard looks, the former turning her back to him as she continued to work with renewed vigor. The man with light brown skin turned up his nose at McCree, eyes unkind.

“Madi, Isabella, Luis,” Jesse gave a small tip of his hat as he kept his expression even and civil, “mighty fine seeing ya'll.”

Luis let out a snort, but the fair skinned woman, Isabella, all but snarled at him. “You shouldn't have shown your face again, not after you let Reyes blow up—”

“Oi, we're not going over this!” Lena barked out, hands on her hips as she glared at the fair skinned woman.

Madi took a step forward, wiping her greasy hands on a blue handkerchief aggressively. “And why shouldn't we? _He's_  the reason Overwatch got disbanded in the first place.”

McCree took a half step forward, starting to feel his anger get to him. He _hated_  when he was being talked about like he wasn't standing _right there_ , especially when he was being accused of something he didn't do. “I'm flattered ya'll think I single handedly took down the old Overwatch, but ya give me too much credit; I couldn't take down Blackwatch, let alone _Overwatch_ , in m'dreams.”

The Puerto Rican man let loose a sharp laugh, moving to give McCree a harsh shove. His movement had been anticipated, Jesse adjusting accordingly, and was ultimately unmoved, it just seemed to make Luis more angry. “You stupid son of a bitch, we _know_  you had help! We know there was sleeper agents, you're one yourself!”

Suddenly, Brigitte moved to stand between the cowboy and the furious mechanics, a deep glare casted towards her three mechanics. “That's enough, I will _not_  listen to anyone whining about the old days, I got that enough from Rein.” She turned, eyes softening as she gave McCree a kind smile. It startled him, not expecting someone who had heard both sides to willing stand by his. He knew his story sounded convenient, that he _just_  managed to avoid the fallout and was safely on a plane back to America when Gabe and Jack had brawled it out. It was easy to imagine that he knew, that's why it had been so hard to tell everyone otherwise.

It still bothered him that Moira had also left around the same time he did, no one even bothering to talk about the Irish woman. Was she not just as guilty as Jesse? With her less than moral decisions and reputation for ignoring laws to get what she wanted, he thought she would have been the first person everything was blamed on. To add on to it, Moira was around long before Jesse's sorry ass was swiped from Deadlock, the mad scientist and Blackwatch's commander often drinking together when Jack and Ana weren't around to keep Gabe company. Maybe they weren't around as much as they should have been.

Brigitte turned back to her mechanics, hands on her hips. “I don't care what Mr. McCree did in the past, he very clearly cares about the cause if he came back despite knowing he'd have to deal with people like you three.” Isabella and Luis stayed silent, still fuming but unable to fully argue.

“You wouldn't understand, Brig, you weren't there.” All eyes turned their attention to Madi, but she sharply turned and walked back to the Aurora without waiting for a response.

After that, Lena had pointedly taken side corridors, avoiding people as much as she could until they reached the front door where Winston sat waiting, doctor Ziegler standing to his left and Reinhardt to his right.

The good doctor was the first to break from the scientist's side, running towards Jesse and tackled him into a hug. Jesse let out a sharp laugh, one hand coming up to keep his stetson in place while he hugged her back with the other arm. “Look at you, ain't aged a single day!”

Angela let out her own laugh, a little smirk on her face. “Still flirty as ever, though I think you've gotten better at it.” She teased, blue eyes ever kind as they turned and walked towards the ape and former crusader. “When you have time later, I need you to swing by my office, your info is horribly out of date.”

He barked out another laugh as he nodded, a small rush of happiness filling him at the sight of his old friends. “'Course, doc, still don't like needles but I'll pull through just for ya.” He gave her a wink, Angela bursting out into a laugh as she gave him a playful little shove.

As they drew near towards the other two agents, Reinhardt was the next to break from Winston's side, big arms open wide as he approached the American. He had no choice but to open up his own arms, wheezing out a laughing as the tree trunks for arms squeezed tightly around him. “It's been far too long, Jesse! Tonight, we drink in your honour until the sun comes up!”

The little pointed 'ahem’ from Angela had Reinhardt loosening his grip slightly, Jesse grinning up at him as the giant looked to the doctor. “Responsibly, of course, miss Angela.” Jesse, Angela, and Lena let out small laughs as Reinhardt parted from the cowboy, allowing him to finally breathe properly as he straightened out his serape.

“McCree, it's good to see you again.” He looked over to Winston, doing his best to relax and give an easy smile. The ape looked downright nervous, shifting his weight between his two front arms, one hand coming up to bump his glasses back into place every now and then.

“Yer right 'bout that, forgot how much fun ya'll were.” He let his grin widened slightly as he saw Lena preen beside him, her own smile being infectious.

Thankfully, Winston seemed to relax as his shoulders slumped slightly. “Well, no time to waste then! I have a meeting room prepared to get you acquainted with the other field agents.”

Jesse gave him a little grin, bumping up his hat. “Always wanted t’go to a family reunion.” He teased, Winston finally cracking a smile as the others let out laughs.

As Winston turned to lead the way in, heavy footsteps alerted Jesse that someone was running towards them. His first instinct was to draw his gun and aim down whoever it was, but he simply let his hand hover Peacekeeper as he turned to see the young mechanic running towards them with a little grin on her face.

“Thanks for waiting up!” Brigitte seemed chipper despite the argument between her mechanics and the cowboy relic only a few minutes ago.

“You forgot about the meeting, didn't you?” Reinhardt teased, a big hand clapping against her back.

Brigitte smirked, roughly hip checking him and managing to throw the giant of a man off balance slightly. “Of course not, I came to make sure _you_  wouldn't miss it.” She let out a laugh, Reinhardt mimicking.

It was… nice. Jesse felt like this was hopelessly domestic, but he welcomed it all the same. He missed interacting with people as much as he claimed to be a lone wolf, especially those who he could call friends.

When he was pulled out of Deadlock and given a choice, he had thought no one would ever trust him. Who would tell secrets and mission plans to a scrawny kid who repeatedly tried to get out when Reyes wasn't looking and lied constantly? Angela was one of his first friends, she was placed under Moira for her apprenticeship, meaning McCree would have to see her often with how much he got banged up during sparring sessions. She was given McCree as a patient because Moira and Gabe thought it was hilarious, but her gentle tone and amiable personality to eased Jesse into his new life, giving correct information, and allowing for medical examinations. He would also be lying if he said he didn't have a crush on her at the time.

Friends had come easier after that, Angela introduced him slowly to the more important people who she claimed had 'looked past his Deadlock days’. He hadn't initially believed her, but Reinhardt was incredibly kind, and Winston liked making new friends since he was fresh off the moon. Torbjörn was harder to read, and he certainly kept his distance, but even the old cranky Swede eventually would spare a joke in Jesse's direction or humour the cowboy with his own jokes and questions.

His bond with Reyes had apparently been a surprise to everyone, the older one becoming a role model and parental figure in Jesse's life that he had sorely been missing since he had joined Deadlock at the tender age of seven. Sure, the boss made sure Jesse could shoot okay and get out of trouble well enough, even partnered him up with another kid named Elizabeth so they could watch each other's backs when he turned eleven, but Gabe filled a void Jesse wasn't even aware he had at the time.

Briefly, Jesse wondered what had become of Ashe and Bob, he only found out later, when he was fifteen and Ashe was seventeen, that she was a rich kid who wanted some 'excitement’ in her life, which explained why she never slept on base until she hit sixteen. He had been mildly offended that his rough way of life was something a rich kid—someone who had _everything_ —would want. But Ashe was a good shot, even better strategist, and Bob was a terrifying omnic who could level a battlefield in minutes. He'd sooner have Ashe on his side than the enemies, least Bob turned those blank green eyes on him.

Reinhardt clapping his hands together and laughing startled Jesse from his thoughts, finding everyone moving to head inside as they chatted amongst themselves. He was quick to shake his memories of Ashe away as he headed after his found family, deciding he had made the correct choice when he chose Blackwatch over prison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this felt incredibly short even tho it's almost 2k words, must be the exposition lmao
> 
> _finally_ hanzo's pov next chapter, i promise


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: my doc i have this all written in is 63 pages long and has a word count of 38, 373
> 
> take a wild guess how much of that writing takes place later in the story lul

The narrow corridor of the room was mostly silent, soft whimpers from the other captives echoing off the bland, dark grey walls as scientists in stark white lab coats padded between the cells, clipboards in their hands as they jotted down notes and spoke to one another in hushed voices.

There wasn't much to look at, everything seemed to be made of the same metal material and colour, where one thing ended and another began was almost impossible to tell. The cells were glorified square cages, barely six feet tall and five feet wide and long. A uncovered drain sat in the middle of the cells, each one holding the vile scent of feces and urine, and, in some cases that weren't so rare, vomit.

It was a special kind of hell, every bit of the facility constantly reminding it's prisoners of the pain and suffering no matter where they went. Perhaps that's why everything looked the same, you can't escape the awful images in your head if you're constantly reminded of them.

Thought it wasn't confirmed, more rather speculated among the living subjects, they were stationed deep underground. None could remember seeing any windows or outside light under the fluorescent bulbs. The fresh air intakes smelled less fresh and more manufactured and metallic, giving credit to the idea that they were far from surface level. It just added to the insanity, a little bit more to try and force their test subjects into submission.

Hanzo Shimada wasn't a stranger to imprisonment, he and his younger brother, Genji, had been forced to endure years worth of training to insure they wouldn't break. This was a level of torture that was designed to slowly chip away at their resolve, but Hanzo would not let these vile people twist his mind. He was cold and still as a statue, never acknowledging the scientists or their questions as they went about poking and prodding at him.

He didn't think there was one ounce of his body that could forgive these people (not that he wanted to anyways), not after the tests he and Genji went through for their sick amusement, declaring the brothers should be able to summon their family's spirit guardians. Genji had called them stupid, neither believing for an instant that these cruel and evil people could call upon an ancient family spirit that could very well not be real and force it to have a corporal form.

They had been wrong.

The cost of summoning the twin dragons left Hanzo tired and lethargic, Genji in no better condition though he could only summon one. Why Hanzo could summon two and Genji only one was left a mystery, it seemed even Talon was clueless on that front. They both knew it was something to do with their tattoos, using the Shimada family ink as an anchor, but that's as far as their progress had been on the subject, furthering their confusion since Hanzo only had one dragon on his body. He had dabbled in the idea of getting a companion piece, something similar to his mother's, but the elders had forbidden it.

In tall tales, their grandfather had told them that a dragon spirit would forever protect those carrying the Shimada blood, so long as they let the spirits mark them. The tradition of getting a dragon tattoo came from this legend, and they thought it had only been that; a legend. No one had ever been able to summon a dragon before, and, as the brothers grew older and learned about the family business, it was written off as just a Yakuza symbol the older generations chose for the heirs of the empire, the grunts getting the family sigil of two dragons chasing one another in a circle.

Their father and mother both had a dragon, their mother's a dark green hidden in a bamboo forest on her thigh and their father's an angry red pouncing out of lava on his right arm. Genji's had been inked in a bright green (in remembrance of their mother after her untimely passing), the dragon's body coiled among the branches of a cherry blossom tree that rested on his back. Hanzo's was a deep blue, curling up from his wrist, up his arm, across his shoulder, and ending just above his left nipple. Storm clouds and lightning bathed the inked dragon, allowing its body to hide and weave in the storm.

The brothers got theirs when they each respectively turned sixteen while their mother got hers a month after she gave birth to Hanzo. And of course their mother told stories of ancient dragons, ones that ruled the earth ages upon ages ago, and the ones that protected the Shimada’s, but it was never presented as anything other than a story.

Even now, after witnessing the semi-transparent creatures pull it’s body up from his arm or Genji’s back, it still didn’t seem real. He wasn’t sure it would _ever_  feel real.

A sharp voice drew Hanzo from his thoughts, peeking out of their cell to see the lead scientist, an Irish woman with short red hair and two different coloured eyes named Doctor O'Deorain, weaving between each cell. Her eyes were unkind as she spoke to her assistant who jotted down notes almost as quickly as the woman spoke, their eyes never looking up to the scientist.

Her impassive face curled into a small grin as she stopped in front of what she lovingly called her 'favourite test subjects’, harsh brown eyes glaring up at her behind long curtains of hair. “How are my two dragons doing?” She asked, the older of the two snarling at her.

But, he didn't give her an answer, refusing to waste his breath on a woman who refused to listen. Genji, on the other hand, seemed like he was ready for a fight.

“You don't _get_  to call us that.” Genji spat, weakly rising to his feet from Hanzo's side. “I swear, as soon as father finds us, you'll be the first one to die.”

O'Deorain let out a cruel laugh as she folded her hands behind her back, leaning towards the bars slightly. “You've been here for quite a while, don't you think he would've come for you by now?” Hanzo dared a glance to his younger brother, holding his breath when he saw Genji's knees almost give out. “Besides, the only way to advance ourselves is to pursue new distances in science, and I'd say I've done remarkable work on the Shimada line.” Something in Hanzo snapped, the way she sounded like she had any hold on the Shimada family rubbed him the wrong way. She was acting as if the brothers should be _grateful_.

“You have sullied our bodies with your disgusting experiments and you expect us to say 'thank you’?” Sharp eyes turned to Hanzo, Doctor O'Deorain looking almost surprised he had finally broken his silence. “You are delusional at best, we _will_  escape, and you will be the first creature we seek out and kill for stealing away two Yakuza heirs.”

O'Deorain quickly regained her composure as she gave Hanzo a little smirk, crouching down so she was level with him. “My, my, finally broke your silent treatment, Akande will be most pleased to hear about this.” Hanzo's blood went cold at the mention of Talon's leader.

He was a terrifying man to deal with, under his rough exterior was a cold and calculating man. He had worked both Hanzo and Genji into a corner, promising that they would be broken and join Talon's ranks. Hanzo had verbally disagreed, and the next memory he had was searing pain just below his right knee and Genji sobbing over his body. Within the follow days, he was given the tools to fix his one prosthetic, not that he knew much about the mechanics behind it.

Akande had said that if he was good, then he'd get proper mechanic to come in and fix it. Hanzo simply spat in his face and began his silence.

Putting on a brave façade, Hanzo sent a glare to the woman as he clenched his hands at his sides. “Tell him what you want, I _will_  kill you once this is over.”

Doctor O'Deorain gave a small roll of her eyes, standing up again as she looked between the brothers. “You'll submit to me in time, boys like you were raised to be obedient to the person holding the leash.” Without skipping a beat, she turned and walked off, her assistant close behind her.

Once she was out of sight was when Genji finally collapsed to his knees, letting out a shaky breath as he turned and crawled back over to sit beside his older brother. “Fuck killing her with our weapons, let's just fucking nuke this hellhole.” Hanzo let out a weak chuckle as he moved and pressed closer to Genji's side, the younger one instantly resting his head on Hanzo's shoulder as the older one rested his on top of Genji's head.

They sat in silence, Hanzo able to gauge exactly when Genji went to sleep as his breathing turned shallow and slow. Hanzo let his mind drift to his legs, specifically to the one that had lost feeling from Akande. The sensors on the right leg no longer worked, he couldn't feel the cool floor or the pressure when he stood and walked.

He sucked in a shuddering breath when he _swore_  he could feel his toes moving on his right foot, his body slightly shaking. He could _feel_  the sharp stab of pins and needles as he tried roll his ankle, but the joint was stiff and unresponsive, the nerves having been damaged and made his ankle unable to even twitch. He hadn't felt phantom pains in _years_ , not after his mechanic had spent hours upon hours slaving away to make these prosthetics feel as real as they could be.

Hanzo suddenly clapped his hand to his mouth, moving to tip his head back as he stared up at the ceiling with his brown eyes growing glassy.

He couldn't believe that any of this had happened, this wasn't how their lives were supposed to play out. He was supposed to be ready to take the reins of the clan, not sitting in some underground testing facility, feeling phantom pains, and able to _actually_  call upon his spirit guardians. He and Genji should've been at home, making deals and pleasing their father with their growing knowledge of their ever expanding empire.

Even Genji, the spare heir the elders had once asked for Hanzo to eliminate, had finally found a place in the Shimada-gumi. Their father had been pleased and the elders had, begrudgingly, accepted it. The younger one still spent most of his days and nights in Shimada clubs, but when he was called upon, he did not disappoint like he had years before.

It wasn't fair! He wanted to scream, cry out, act childish! He did _everything_  he had ever been told to do! Didn't he deserve something _better_  than a broken prosthetic and being used as a pincushion? Sure, he had killed plenty of people, threatened more than a handful or two or twenty, cheated several cheaters at their own games, but it was because it was expected of him. His loyalty to the Shimada-gumi came before his own moral standings, he was obedient to a fault.

He was born to be a weapon, raised to take up the mantle of oyabun once his father passed, trained to lead their clan to greatness. Never once was his input asked, he seldom was allowed to make his own choices. He did everything without question, without a sliver of hesitance. So why was he being punished?

If anything, it was Genji's fault. _He_  had suggested they go out for drinks for the older one's 38th birthday. Hanzo had been more than happy to just lounge around at home, especially with their father's ever deteriorating health (the old fool refused to step down and join the elders, for what reason Hanzo would never know), but Genji had _insisted_  that they both deserved a small break. He was going to slip out anyways, so Hanzo decided to tag along to keep the younger Shimada out of trouble.

Trouble found them when a pretty thing with long, dark blue hair and skin so pale it almost looked like a bluish-purple came up to them with two drinks, handing them off to the brothers as she wished Hanzo a happy birthday in rough sounding Japanese.

Genji was fishing for a one-night stand, Hanzo was just being courteous, both were far passed buzzed and drank the alcohol without inspecting the way the bubbles floated downwards and tasted _off_.

The last thing he remembered before passing out was the woman smirking as she pressed a finger to her ear, stating that the targets had been acquired in English with a heavy French accent.

In his heart, Hanzo knew it was unfair to blame Genji. The younger one had simply been trying to get Hanzo off the family grounds, experience life a little before they were finally trapped behind the castle walls with their duties.

Genji was only doing what he always did best; making sure everyone was having a good time, even when the world was falling apart around them.

With his thoughts slightly sorted and mind briefly forgetting about the pins and needles, Hanzo returned his head to Genji's and took this brief pause of derailed thoughts as his sign to try and sleep, sighing softly as he closed his eyes. He prayed for some miracle to happen, anything at this point, that would allow them to escape and go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm gonna be honest, i have no idea how yakuzas work other than other stories i've read and what little i've found by researching terms, so the shimada's are gonna have, like, a fantasy hybrid yakuza? so, once we get to it much later, don't be surprised if it seems horribly inaccurate lmao i also have no idea how drugging someone works (hybrid fantasy/futuristic drugs ftw) or how to torture people lmao this is just a fanfic, it's going to be inaccurate somewhere
> 
> also, if things about hanzo/genji's past seems hazy or wishy-washy, it was intentional and things will be better explained/revealed as the story goes on, hanzo is marked in my tags as unreliable narrator :p
> 
> also also, it only occurred to me the other day i've been spelling "y'all" wrong (i've be spelling it "ya'll"), and in future chapters it'll be spelt correctly. it's how i've always typed it soooo lol gonna be a hard habit to break
> 
> as always, comments and constructive criticism are always appreciated!! next chapter might be a little shorter and new pov!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the plan is to upload a chapter every week for the month of june (happy pride month everyone!), so fingers crossed that writers block stays away

Reaper was quietly leaning up against the back wall, arms crossed tightly over his chest, near black eyes hidden behind his white mask as he watched the other agents, some faces new and some old, mingle with one another as they waited for the latest recalled agent. The waiting was driving him crazy, he didn't even want to meet the new kid. Reaper had better things to do than meet someone who would constantly avoid him anyways.

It was partially his fault that people didn't approach him, he didn't seek anyone out, and he tried to keep himself as far away from others as he could. He didn't know what he would say or do if someone recognized him, and that scared Reaper more than having no familiar connections.

“Don’t you look inviting.” He glanced over to the sarcastic voice that came from Soldier: 76, the red visor looking out into the group as he too leaned against the wall, hands pinned behind his lower back.

Reaper let out a huff, loosening his grip on his arms slightly as he relaxed his shoulders. “The longer we mingle with them, the closer they'll be to figuring us out.” He mumbled, not wanting their cover blown so soon after coming back home.

76 let out a hum in understanding, Reaper noticing his shoulders relaxing as well. “Who do you think answered?” He asked, looking over to meet Reaper's masked gaze.

“Normally, I would just suggest a little nobody, like another mechanic or grunt soldier, but they wouldn't gather us all together like this if it wasn't someone important.” He paused, thinking thoughtfully. “Maybe Ana's finally decided to come back.” Another thoughtful hum from 76, Reaper suddenly letting out a snort. “Or maybe Gérard somehow survived a blade to his heart.” That earned a chuckle from his companion, Reaper smiling fondly under his mask.

At this point in the game, he wouldn't discredit his thought entirely. Ana had survived a shot directly to her head, faking her death, and resurging as a vigilante named Shrike that hovered mostly in Egypt. Himself and Jack had survived an _explosion_ , been brought back to life by both Angela and the snake in the grass Moira.

He had thought she and McCree had fled Switzerland together, they had vanished around the same time and neither left a note. Angela confirmed Moria had fled, but she didn't go west, where they suspected Jesse had gone, she went south. Angela had found her holed up in Watchpoint: Congo, a small and retired base under the Congo River. How the good doctor managed to find Moria was beyond him, and he almost wished she hadn't bothered looking.

Whatever Moira did to Gabe, it completely fucked up his body. Being able to teleport and turn to smoke had certainly helped him more times than he could count, but sometimes the abilities activated on their own accord when he went through extreme emotions, a self defense of sorts, Angela had guessed. It was terribly inconvenient when he and Jack decided, after far too long, to take a night to themselves. Just as Gabe had reached his peak, his wraith form activated and he fell around Jack and through the mattress, right onto the floor. Jack couldn't stop laughing and Gabe was beyond mortified.

He sorely missed when these abilities were attached to his belt that he could take off when the day was done.

Reaper was pulled from the embarrassing memory as the door to the meeting room slid open, Winston and Reinhardt coming in first. The ape gave a shy smile as he moved to stand at the head of the table, Reinhardt giving a huge grin as he moved to stand beside Torbjörn.

It was easy to tell that Winston was out of his element as a leader, Gabe had watched him plenty back in the good ol' days. He was a scientist, only being sent out on missions where his aggression could be of service, like the Havana mission that Sojourn had put together _without_  prior permission and that the _ingrate_  hadn’t mentioned he would be on.

Fucking McCree.

Winston and McCree aside, it was only a matter of time now, he and 76 would reveal themselves, explain why they had vanished and used smoke and mirrors to cover everything up. Hopefully, Jack would resume command at that point, start up the de facto team again, and continue to pursue Overwatch's original goal. All they had to do was bide their time and gain everyone's trust, they couldn’t afford to reveal themselves until even the most skeptic of the group welcomed them back.

Brigitte came in next, right behind the ape, and quickly walking over to Hana with a quiet greeting, a soft smile returned for her efforts. Angela was next, half turned as she spoke to whoever remained outside the door. She too quickly broke off to stand with Torbjörn and Reinhardt, Reaper quietly realizing he and 76 were absent from their close knit group. 76 must have felt it too, if his uncomfortable shifting said anything.

He wasn't given time to dwell on it as Lena popped in, a giant grin on her face. “Alright everyone, it's my pleasure to announce that our newest recall is," she paused with a grin, "drumroll please!" Reinhardt, Hana, and Brigitte humoured the tiny woman, hammering their fists on the table with laughs. "McCree!” Lena shouted out, loud whooping and hollering following the announcement.

Gabe felt everything slow down and their cheers fell upon his deaf ears, eyes widening behind his mask as Jesse _fucking_  McCree sauntered in, clothing beyond dusty, dark tanned skin looking weathered, and deep bags under his bright eyes. He was down an arm and had it replaced with a prosthetic, plenty of dents in it from what he assumed were bullet that had ricocheted, if the sewn holes in his shirt and serape were anything to go by.

Oh, the years had not been kind to Jesse, that much Gabe knew.

“ _Holy shit_ , you're _here!_ ” Fareeha was the first to speak up amongst the cheering, running from her seat beside Satya and Mei to tackle Jesse into a hug.

The cowboy let out a noise of surprise as they tumbled to the floor, a deep laughter rumbling from Jesse that Fareeha quickly join in with as they hugged tightly. Reaper was silently glad he had a mask covering his face, he was sure the fondness in his eyes would've been pointed out by Hana and gave him away. The young MEKA pilot seemed to love poking at him and 76, he was sure the young woman would be the first to reveal them given the chance.

As Jesse and Fareeha rose to their feet, still smiling and laughing, Reaper took a moment to try and recompose himself. He didn't know what to say to Jesse. What _could_  he say? ‘Sorry for letting you take the blame for something that was staged, please don't hate us.’

Yeah right.

As far as he knew, Jesse hated his guts, and rightfully so. He and Jack played dead, only to worm their way back into the newly reformed Overwatch through Angela. She and Ana were the only two living souls who knew both men were alive (other than Moira, but fuck Moira, he was still mad with her) and had kept their secret. It was enough of a surprise Ana hadn't been upset with them, not that she could say much, having been in hiding herself.

“Howdy, I reckon yer Reaper and Soldier: 76?” He sharply turned and looked at Jesse, holding back a whine with how tense he seemed standing in front of the two masked men, two people he once called friends.

Thankfully, Jack spoke for them as Gabe hesitated, losing himself in painful memories of what was. “That's right, feel free to call me ‘76’, or ‘Soldier’, I don't care either way.”

Jesse gave a little grin, Reaper noting he still seemed tense though he put up a good façade. “How 'bout yer real name then?” _Clever as always_.

“I'm afraid we have a 'no telling cowboys our names' policy.” 76 sent Reaper a look at his comment, but he was smirking behind his white mask as Jesse's little grin grew, whiskey-brown eyes turning to him.

“That's a downright shame, an’ here I thought y'all were lookin’ to make friends.”

“Perhaps with someone less outdated and so cheeky.” It felt so _natural_  to fall back into playful banter, especially seeing the way Jesse grinned and shot back just as well.

Before either McCree or Reaper could speak up again, 76 cut in. “I look forward to working with you, we've see your face on the news a lot.”

McCree gave a cocky grin, _almost_  looking relaxed if Reaper hadn't known better. “I'm flattered, and _maybe_  you old timers'll be able to keep up.” Reaper let out a snort as 76 just gave a heavy sigh.

With that, McCree moved on, Fareeha excitedly introducing the cowboy to her girlfriend, Satya. The three falling into what seemed like a comfortable conversation, Jesse laughing and smiling as they talked, a small glimpse back into what was and what had used to be.

Reaper was sharply nudged, turning to find 76 gesturing with his head to follow.

He obeyed silently, following the old soldier towards the exit, Winston giving a nervous nod as they left. If it was _anyone else_ , they would have been questioned for leaving so early, but the ape had no discipline, he didn't have the aura of a commander. Jack would've _never_  allowed for someone to leave a meeting (no matter how informal) without a reasoning, Gabe not much different.

Both men remained silent, the white masked man constantly glancing over their shoulders as they subtly linked their pinky fingers together, heading to their shared room to undoubtedly speak in private.

There was no way 76 hadn't seen the way Reaper spoke to McCree, he _had_  to have heard the fondness in his voice, the way he longingly looked after him once the cowboy had went off to meet the others. This conversation was, without a doubt, going to be a reminded of their goals and why Reaper was about to fuck everything up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> changed up the storm rising mission a bit (stupid dev team throwing a wrench in my plans smh), instead of genji it's mccree now, so not a huge difference, and it honestly might not even be touched upon again, but i wanted to at least nod to it rather than pretend it didn't happen in this au sooooo
> 
> back to our regularly scheduled mccree pov next chapter
> 
> as always, comments and constructive criticism are always welcomed and appreciated!!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember how i said i'd upload if i didn't get writers block? hahaha  
> i didn't get writers block, but suddenly everything happened one day after another ranging from alarms not going off, having to suddenly help with the family business, and my cat getting an infection in his paw since he decided to declaw himself because he and my other cat share a singular brain cell and she had it for the day :)
> 
> it has been a very long month for me

After the meet-and-greet with the new team, Lena promptly lead Jesse to his room, grateful to find he wasn't sharing the space with anyone else. Winston had mentioned the other agents and mechanics slept in the barracks in bunk beds, twelve people to one room. The scientist went on to explain that only the field agents and important persons of interest got their own rooms since Watchpoint: Gibraltar wasn't nearly as big as most of the other bases.

He thanked the pilot for her time, with the promise of catching up with her later in the rec room, and promptly threw his bag onto the bed before heading to shower. Jesse couldn't even remember the last time he was able to take a hot shower, take his time, and use shampoo _and_  conditioner. This was about to become his new favourite room on base.

An hour later, a much cleaner and freshly groomed McCree stepped out from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, sighing in content as he moved to crack open the window and take in the view.

"Yup," he mumbled, "I could get used to this." He thought about lightening up a cigarillo, but decided Angela deserved to check him over when he didn't smell like gunpowder and smoke.

He watched the ocean for a few more minutes before turning away, moving to investigate the dresser and holding in a small laugh as he pulled it open to reveal all different types of underwear.

So that was why Winston had asked about his clothing sizes.

Jesse quickly got the underwear situation sorted out, picking a pair of boxer briefs with a little potted cacti pattern, before heading to the wardrobe and flung it open. "Thank the gods." Nearly every shirt was long sleeved, buttoned up, and different colours of plaid. There were several long sleeved t-shirts that were plain colours or had the Overwatch logo on them (he even spied a Blackwatch one, curious to who had picked that one out), as well as plain white t-shirts.

After wearing the same thing for years, a brown faded shirt with more than enough patched holes, he was glad to see so much selection of his usual comfort shirts. He pulled the drawer out, grinning as he saw different shades of blue jeans as well as several different pairs of swim trunks and sweatpants. He even spied a black two piece suit hidden behind his other various shirts when he went back to pick one.

He felt like a kid at Christmas as he grabbed one of the deep red plaid button up shirts and a pair of faded blue jeans.

Jesse was quick to dress himself, making sure to roll up the sleeves, slip his boots back on, buckle up his belt, and grab his hat. He stood in front of the mirror longer than he ever had, examining himself, making sure every detail was perfectly in place. Although everyone had already seen him scruffy and gritty, he still wanted to make a more prominent impression on those who hadn't seen him yet. And of course his trip to the break room was the perfect time for that.

It had been a good long while since McCree had been able to eat his fill, his diet mostly consisted of whatever he could pocket without being seen in a gas station in under a minute so he wouldn't be recognized, snacking throughout the day. Somehow, rather than losing weight with his lack of eating larger meals, he seemed to pack it on due to _what_  he was eating. Now that he would be getting full, proper meals as well as being able to pick and choose what he snacked on rather than what could be hidden under his serape, not to mention properly working out again, he was hoping to lose some of the belly he had filled out since escaping the Swiss base.

He didn't particularly care he was rounder than he had been back in the day, his abs hidden under a layer of fat, but his body armour was getting a little bit tighter each day and he loathed to have that conversation with Torbjörn willingly.

The plate had been made bigger when he first got it, one of the last days before he left. Gabe had told Torbjörn to make it a bit larger than Jesse actually was. He was still 'toothpick status', as Gabe liked to call it, though he had gained a large amount of muscle and was almost the proper weight for a man his age at the time.

The embarrassment of being scrawny when he was brought in was now a god send, he could fly under the radar for a month or two as he lost some weight and Torbjörn would be none the wiser.

On the topic of food, McCree's stomach gave a rumble. The cowboy stifled a laugh as he slipped out of his room and made his way down the hall, trying to stomp down the feeling of being exposed without his serape.

Winston had shown the layout of the base from a set of old fashioned paper blueprints, which wasn't much different than the watchpoint in Texas that he and Gabe frequented. There had been a few differences, like where the hangers were and that Watchpoint: Dallas didn't have nearly the same breathtaking views or satellites being ready to launch into space, but the general layout had been the same and that was good enough for McCree.

One of the similarities was that there was a large canteen for meals and snacks, but also a small kitchenette that wasn't too far down from the gunslinger's room (the rec room wasn't much further down the hall either). It was more of a glorified break room, if it was anything like Dallas', but it was specified that it was for field agents and persons of interest only.

If Jesse was being honest, he was relieved that his room, as well as the kitchen, was locked away from just the regular agents. He had been welcomed back with open arms by the team, surprised even Reaper and 76 hadn't been completely rude towards him (something felt familiar about the encounter, but he couldn't place his finger on it), but what had transpired between himself and the three mechanics left a bitter taste in his mouth that he'd like to limit as much as possible in future encounters. At least until all the dust had settled and he had earned back their trust.

Thankfully, the kitchen was empty, giving McCree time to case the place for what was stocked up.

Normally, he would have reveled in the chance to cook and make something that felt a little more personal, but he was hungry _now_  and didn't have the patience or willpower to wait much longer.

Jesse was quick to pull out a small pot, filling it with water before setting it on the stove and turning it on. Before he could even open the cheap ramen packaging, a voice startled him as he nearly lost his grip on his next meal.

"You know the canteen is open from 5 A.M to 11 P.M, right?" He turned to find the young MEKA pilot taping away at her phone, moving towards the fridge.

"'Course I do, I just—"

"Lena and Brig told us what happened after you left, Winston made sure that the closest field agent would be alerted by Athena if someone bothered you."

Jesse let out a huff, hunger forgotten as he set the ramen down to send a heated glare to Hana. "I can take care of m'self, I ain't needed to be watched over."

She shrugged, finally deciding on some sugary drink as she retrieved it and closed the fridge with her hip. "Whatever, go take it up with Winston if it's a problem."

Oh, he'd take it up with Winston alright. He already had a half-baked plan figured out of how to deal with this issue. He would just ask Lena, or Angela, or literally _anyone else_  to join him for meals until he had the chance to prove himself to the other agents. But he didn't need the _A.I_  to babysit him.

As soon as Hana left, McCree only now realizing she had only looked up from her phone to grab her drink, he dumped out the water into the sink and may as well have slammed the package of ramen back into the cupboard in his anger. "Athena, where the fuck is Winston?"

She was quiet for a moment, Jesse suddenly wondering if Gibraltar didn't have the speakers and mics like Dallas did, but her voice came through one of the various speakers as soon as the thought had come to him. "He's in his lab, top floor, room 328."

Without acknowledging Athena, let alone even _thanking_  her, Jesse stormed off down the hall towards Winston's lab. He was already made a fool of, people already didn't trust him. If any of the agents knew that their higher-ups were protecting Jesse this much, it would just add fuel to the fire. What man needed protection from 'what if's or 'maybe's if he was truly innocent?

Regardless if the rest of the team believed in his innocence or not, he would _not_  allow for any more rumours to start flying around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really debated having the conversation with winston or not be shown, i decided to not include it since winston (for the most part) is very non-confrontational in this fanfic and it would be a fairly short scene. the health checkup with mercy is also not visited but referenced to, and i'm still mildly unsure if these two scenes (despite me not wanting to portray them) should be included or not, any suggestions?
> 
> As always, thank you for the comments and kudos, constructive criticism is always welcomed!


	7. Chapter 7

Jesse leaned up against the wall, arms crossed over his chest as he watched people filter in and took seats around the table. When Reaper and 76 entered, the latter moved to sit beside Angela, the former giving a brief nod to McCree (which he returned), before leaning against the wall at the back of the room.

Winston had called a meeting to discuss a lead they had gotten on a target a little over a week into Jesse's arrival. While Angela had medically cleared him with only a warning of "don't smoke, but I know you will anyways, so don't do it inside," he had a clean bill of health, but the medic had barred him from missions until he fell into the groove of things. Therefore, anything regarding missions and gathering intelligence were near complete secrets to the gunslinger.

So naturally, McCree wasn't quite sure of all the details, as it seemed to be very hush-hush, as most things the past week were. But the scientist had gathered up some of the team, specifically those who were good at getting intel, it seemed. He just wasn't sure why he was suddenly allowed in on missions when Angela had banned him.

The medic was there for strategic purposes, Jesse assuming 76 and Reaper had their own sources. Lena also sat at Winston's side, everyone knew she had friends within MI6 and had a lot of favours to call in. Naturally, Zarya and Hana were there as well, both were here as volunteers and still answered to their home countries, therefore, they had their own sources of intelligence. Lastly, because of her high status with Helix, Fareeha was also there, sitting on Angela's other side.

“That looks like everyone,” Winston started as he sat up at the head of the table. “I called you all here because we recently scouted a bounty,” he started, nervously wringing his large hands together, similar to when McCree had chewed him out a week ago.

76 scoffed as he crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair. “Are we bounty hunters now?” Winston either didn't hear or he chose to ignore the old man, continuing on with maybe a little less confidence than he started with.

He suddenly grabbed a small octagon from his breast pocket of his oversized lab coat as he continued, sliding the device to the centre of the table. “Of course, you all know that unless we find some way to get funding, we'll never be able to do what the world needs us to do. Athena, if you would.”

At once, the little device glowed a bright blue before several holoscreens appeared from it, different bits of information filling the screens that began to scroll at a leisurely pace. “Six months ago, Sojiro Shimada put out a bounty,” at the man's name, Athena pulled up a younger image of him. He had crows feet at the corner of his sharp brown eyes, mouth pulled down into a frown. His long black hair was pulled back into a tight looking bun, head tipped up and looking down his nose at the photographer. There was also a woman with brown hair sitting in a regal looking chair, her eyes looking much kinder with a soft smile on her face, Sojiro standing behind her with his hands on her shoulders. On her lap sat a young child with hair just as black as their father's, and her belly was round, suggesting another on the way.

Jesse recalled several missions where he and Gabe headed out to Hanamura to try and infiltrate the Shimada's, trying to ultimately take down the Yakuza. Each and every single time felt like they had been set up over and over, never even able to get within 100 yards of the castle before guards or Sojiro himself intercepted them. On one occasion, the youngest son, a god damn _sixteen year old_  with neon green hair, had been the one to stop them, gleefully cheering that Overwatch would never take down the criminal empire. Gabe only stopped when he had lead over a hundred men and women to their deaths, and it had been an order from those seated above Morrison.

“We had it translated from Japanese to English, and it entails that his two sons, Hanzo Shimada and Genji Shimada, went out for drinks one night and didn't return home. He wants them found and returned unharmed, and in return, he'll be giving quite a bit of yen.” As he spoke, different parts of the contract spun around, highlighting the valuable information, as well as converting the yen to different currency types. About one hundred billion American dollars didn't sound too bad, in McCree's humble opinion.

The two pictures of Hanzo and Genji appeared next, the younger of the two grinning from ear to ear that was strikingly similar to the first and last night they met all those years ago. Genji's white shirt was undone the first couple buttons, black suit jacket carelessly open with tight fitting suit pants, his dyed neon green hair was still present and looked to be bordering on messy that matched the tie he held in his hand, and his clothing in general looked mildly ruffled as if he slept in them. While he looked scrawny, there was no doubt this man could hold his own, considering the family he grew up in. McCree would hazard a guess he was lean but fit under the mess of an outfit.

Hanzo, on the other hand, had his short, pitch black hair neatly slicked back, his suit jacket was slung over his shoulder, suit vest and shirt done up and white sleeves nicely folded up to his elbows, showing off a large blue tattoo that vanished under the sleeve up his arm and complimented the blue highlights of the suit. The tattoo easily directed the eye to the muscle on his arm, overall looking toned and stocky, a proper Yakuza scion in a form fitting casual suit.

Jesse was easily smitten by the latter, knowing he'd be getting acquainted with that image later tonight in the privacy of his room.

“We've contacted one of Sojiro's people, and they've allowed us to take on this bounty. The only problem now is that there have been zero leads, which is where you all come in.” McCree leaned in slightly, curious as to how Winston was going to suggest they find the Shimada brothers.

Sure, Jesse could find someone with less than a stellar lead, but at least there had _been_  a lead. The Shimada's had vanished into thin air, if the report by both Sojiro and the police scrolling on one of the screens was correct. Obviously, the first step was to go to the bar or club they visited, but how many were in Hanamura and how many had surveillance in the form of cameras? Then there was the question of if they would let them _take_  that footage, and if they didn't, what was the next step? Would anyone willingly give correct statements from events that happened over six months ago? What if the people didn't want the Shimada-gumi to continue on? Two heirs missing to the throne would certainly throw a wrench in some plans if something were to happen to Sojiro.

He wasn't sure what Reaper and 76 could do, but they were vigilantes before showing up here, so they had to have _some_  skills in that field and the connections. Lena was a pilot who was fairly decent at reading between the lines, but not without more information like himself, and he highly doubted the MI6 would have anything regarding the Shimada brothers. Fareeha, while catching up with Jesse, had told him that Helix had been hovering around Europe, trying to suss out where Talon was hiding. Zarya and Hana were completely in the dark for Jesse, he didn't know what they could do, but Zarya seemed more inclined to use her muscles than her brain and Hana seemed bored to death sitting there as she tapped away on her phone.

He internally tsk'd at himself for the thought, he was the last person allowed to judge someone based on their looks.

Winston paused, almost looking ready to clam up and not speak, but he pushed on, his voice only quivering a tiny bit. “I know that, after Switzerland, some of you picked up mercenary work.” McCree tensed up, unintentionally moving his hand down to rest on Peacekeeper as the other settled on his hip by the stun grenades. That's why he was here, he should have known. “And I don't wish to seem like I'm using any of you, but one of you _must_  have contacts.” So that was the plan, find outside sources and pay for the intel.

Normally, McCree wouldn’t have cared; it was a sound idea and one that had worked for Blackwatch a handful of times. But the assumption that, after _everything_ , he sought out contract work instead of delivering his own brand of justice rubbed him the wrong way. He was still trying to make up for Deadlock and Blackwatch, trying to help out the little guys.

At once, Reaper took a few steps away from the wall, moving to stand behind Angela and 76. “I have one, but they require payment upfront.”

76 let out a huff as he turned and looked up at the other masked man. “But they won't tell you if they actually _have_  something or not until they get their money, it's a huge gamble.”

“It is, but they haven't let me down yet.” Reaper turned to address Winston, standing a little taller. “I'll have your intel in two weeks.”

Winston seemed relieved as he gave a nod, standing up and moving to dismiss the meeting.

Jesse quickly thought about his options as one thought came clear to his mind; he would not be outdone by some guy playing dress-up as the grim reaper.

“Two weeks is too long,” Jesse started, pushing himself from against the wall as a plan formulated in his head. “I can get it by tomorrow night for free.”

All eyes turned to Jesse, even Hana's as she damn near dropped her phone to the table, Winston's jaw dropping open in surprise. “ _How?_ ”

He gave a little grin, moving to head out with a little wave of his hand. “Let’s just say I’ve got some mighty nice friends.”

No one stopped him as he turned and left without another word, which he didn't mind, he needed to get to work fast, and on such short notice. There probably _would_  be a price, but he was more than willing to pay it if it meant he got his foot in the door, finally staying in the loop of everything happening while forced to be off duty.

Jesse made his way through the halls, autopilot engaging as he made his way up some stairs, took sharp corners, and vanished up to the rooftop. As suspected, the upper floors of the base was built damn near exactly like the ones in Dallas, but this one had a hell of a view.

The sun was at its highest point, and Jesse could already imagine how breathtaking the sunset would be if he would just stop falling asleep before he was able to watch it (and maybe his age was finally catching up on him, but he wouldn't ever suggest that). He peeked over the edge, able to see the waves crashing against the tall cliffs before retreating back into the ocean, only for them to come racing back once again. He should have convinced Gabe to bring him here at least once before everything had gone to hell.

Jesse righted himself as he pulled out a small earpiece, grabbing a small purple chip the size of his pinky nail and set it down on the ground beside him as he sat down, legs dangling off the edge.

He slipped the earpiece on and tapped a small button on it three times, and at once a woman's voice greeting him as the chip beside him suddenly glowed a faint purple.

“ _Well, if it isn't my favourite vaquero, did you put the disrupter down?_ ”

McCree gave a little grin. “Yes ma'am, don't want no one listenin’ in.”

She gave a hum of amusement, Jesse able to perfectly picture her leaned back in a chair as she examined her long nails. “ _They grow up so fast,_ ” she teased, Jesse barking out a laugh. “ _Now, what do you need?_ ”

He placed a hand to his chest in feigned hurt. “Olivia, ya wound me! Can't I talk t’my friend?”

It was her turn to bark out her own laugh. “ _If that was the case, you would be talking to someone else._ ” They shared a final laugh before falling silent, Jesse giving a small nod to himself as he initiated the conversation.

“I need a favour.”

“ _Most men like you do._ ”

“I need info, or a lead at least, on a bounty.”

“ _By when?_ ”

“Lil' over twenty-four hours.”

Olivia let out a loud groan, Jesse perfectly able to see her hands covering her face before dropping to her lap. “ _Which bounty?_ ”

“Shimada.” He could hear her typing away, quietly muttering to herself as she went. “I know ya usually want money, but I thought you'd like some of yer own intel to sell.”

“ _And what kinda intel would it be?_ ”

He gave a little grin. “You'll just have'ta wait and see, but I promise ya, it's well worth yer while.”

“ _You drive a hard bargain, Jesse McCree._ ”

“Only 'cause ya taught me to, Olivia Colomar.” He paused, smirking to himself. “Meet me in the art gallery in Rialto at five local time, dress t'impress.”

“ _You have a lot of faith I can get all the way to Italy_  and  _get you the intel you need in such a small time frame._ ”

“I'm sure you've done more wit’ less time.”

“ _I hate when you're absolutely right,_ ” he could hear the grin in her voice as the typing finally stopped. “ _Your intel better be worth it, or else I'm charging you double._ ”

“Darlin’, Jesse McCree always makes good on his promises.”

Olivia let out a snort before the clicking of keys returned. “ _I'll see what I can do, nos vemos._ ”

“Cuídese.”

With that settled and ready to go, Jesse pulled the earpiece away and back into one of his pouches, the little device blocking any recordings following it as it powered down.

Now, all that was left was to convince Lena that he wanted back in the tin can and to take him to Rialto. For now, he'd just sit and enjoy the view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer; i don't actually think zarya is unintelligent, i think there's definitely a language barrier where she's unable to express herself in english the same way she can in russian (lowkey headcanon that her english isn't great ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯), but she's by no means stupid. i'm hoping to explore it more w/ hanzo but i thought i'd point it out in case i'm unable to do that (there's currently no scene written, only a few ideas floating around my head).
> 
> As always, thank you for the comments and kudos, constructive criticism is always welcomed!


	8. Chapter 8

~~~~It was a lot easier to convince Lena than Jesse had originally thought, apparently she was stuck on base quite a bit since she had been having problems with her newer chronal accelerator _again_ , the last one destroyed by Doomfist when Winston, Lena, and himself went to arrest him years ago. So when he mumbled under his breath at lunch that he needed to sneak out, the pilot was damn near bouncing on the spot before blinking off to her plane, no questions asked.

Thankfully, the flight was much shorter this time, though the tin can still didn’t make him feel any better. As they came to a rolling stop, McCree was up and standing at the door, waiting for the all clear to open it. “How do ya feel safe in this thing?”

She laughed as she came over and nodded to him, Jesse quickly released the door and pushed it open. “Trust me, I know when a plane’s safe, luv.”

He rolled his eyes but exited the craft swiftly and calmly, quick to pull off his serape before balling it up and throwing it back into the plane behind the pilot. “Right, meet back here at ten tonight local time, and don’t get caught.” Lena gave a nod, suddenly gone in a streak of blue.

Jesse let out a small sigh before briskly taking off towards the nearest road as he rolled down both of the sleeves on his black and red plaid shirt, tucking the bottom into his dark grey dress pants, and sliding on nice looking gloves. His hat was replaced with slicked back hair, his beard and mustache trimmed down a little so it looked less wild, all the hair on his head dyed blond with a spray dye, contacts in giving him blue eyes, his usual boots replaced with a shiny new pair he had yet to break in. He was going for the ‘rich American on vacation’ look, plus he needed to conceal his identity as much as he could. He was sure, even with Reyes’ death, that his former commander was still a wanted man here, no doubt Jesse would be in the same boat along with Moira. Gabe had made such a mess.

It didn’t take long to flag down a hovercar, a short and round woman rolling down the window and giving him a wary look. “Hello, miss,” he started, internally wincing at his own Italian. “I am tourist on holiday with wife and lost.”

The woman gave him a long look of pity, gesturing to the other side of her car. “Are you heading into Rialto?” She asked in accented English, Jesse grateful he didn’t have to embarrass himself further.

“Yes, ma’am,” he confirmed as he made his way over to the other side, sliding in as the woman took off again. “The name’s Clint, and I’m mighty glad ya found me when ya did.”

She casted a long sideways glance before looking back forward. “I’m Greta,” she introduced herself, pausing for a heartbeat before continuing. “Why is that?”

“Well, ya see, got separated from m’lovely wife, Bianca, and asked some local kids for directions.” Jesse leaned back in his seat, internally wincing as his drawl got thicker, pressing a hand to his chest as if the made-up story actually wounded him. “They offered t’drive me, an’ next thin’ I knew, I’m stuck smack dab right out in t’middle o’nowhere!” Despite her look of concern, Jesse was able to catch a subtle smile on her face as she relaxed into her seat ever so slightly.

After that, the conversation flowed a lot more slowly, Jesse making sure to keep his side of things trivial that he and Olivia had covered in quick back-and-forth texts before she had announced she was on her way. His drawl had stayed stuck in contractions, combining more words together than he ever had in his entire life that mildly reminded him of his abuelita, and how she slapped one word after another in some horrific combinations that even made his mama have to stop and question just what in the sweet hell “it'dn't've” meant.

Thankfully, as the topics and questions started to get a little more prodding past the typical ‘where do you work’ and ‘how long have you been married’, Jesse spotted Olivia looking down at her phone, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth as she kept anxiously glancing down at the device.

The world class hacker was wearing a lower-thigh length black-to-red gradient dress, lips a dark red, and a long haired dark brown wig hiding the spine modifications and the technology on the side of her head. By the looks of it, she even filled in the shaved spots she had in her eyebrows and covered up the beauty mark under her eye.

As soon as he caught her attention, Olivia shoved her phone into her little purse and ran over towards the car, Jesse quickly telling Greta to slow down.

Jesse took one step out of the hovercar and instantly, Olivia wrapped her arms around his neck, standing on the tips of her toes. “Oh, mi amor! I was so worried about you!”

He had to give her credit, Olivia absolutely sounded like a desperate wife missing her husband.

“Don’t ya worry none, sugar, this nice lady right ‘ere found me an’ brought m’back t’ya.”

Olivia turned to Greta, a faint blush on the woman’s cheeks as Olivia began thanking her in English, Spanish, and even some Italian that didn’t sound half bad.

Eventually, Jesse gently pulled her away, thanking the woman again before the ‘couple’ began their walk into the art gallery, Olivia taking his right arm in her grasp. “Layin’ it on real thick, ain’t’cha?” He asked quietly, trying to stomp down his inner abuelita while holding in a wince as he felt Olivia’s nails dig into his flesh.

“I don’t have a clue what your talking about, _mi amor_.”

Jesse just let out a huff, both remaining silent as he put some money in for a donation and entered the art gallery. It brought him back to the Blackwatch days of his life, the anger he felt for what Reyes had done bubbling up after eight _years_.

It was an easy mission, they grab Antonio, and then interrogate him. But _no_ , Reyes had to kill him on the spot for the attempt on Gérard’s life. Jesse had been furious, as much as he liked to bump shoulders with authority, he knew when to keep in line and do as he was told. Sure, there was a good chance that Antonio’s friends in the government and Talon would have bailed him, but they still could have got _some_  intel instead of completely exposing Blackwatch. They had a plan and they should’ve followed it, instead, Reyes completely and single handedly fucked them over and got himself, along with the rest of Blackwatch, benched.

Both Blackwatch and Overwatch’s commanders were constantly in and out of United Nations meetings for what felt like a century, Morrison trying to convince Director Petra that the secret branch _was_  doing good acts while Reyes was forced to kiss ass so he wouldn’t get a dishonorable discharge. Once the word had gotten out about Blackwatch, though, everything seemed to only go further downhill from there.

“I’ll never understand what people see in art, how is there any joy in looking at a bunch of weirdly shaped lines that make nothing?” Jesse was pulled from his thoughts as he looked to Olivia, the hacker giving a bored look to the… circle with a light in the centre…?

“Some people don’t find joy in rearranging numbers like ya.”

Olivia let out a chuckle. “Their loss.” She teased, Jesse rolling his eyes before they moved onto the next installation. “My girlfriend would like this place, you should see her house.” Olivia rolled her eyes. “It’s its own gallery with how much artwork she has.”

McCree couldn’t help but give a tiny smirk. “Does she know yer on a date with lil’ ol’ me?” Olivia let out a huff.

“If this is your idea of a date, I feel sorry for the poor fool you’re dating.”

“Aw, c’mon darlin’, thought you said yer girlfriend likes art, this’ll make a perfect date for her.”

“Then you won’t mind if I steal that idea.”

“I charge ya five million credits for it.”

“You can’t prove that I didn’t have the idea first, plus I have enough dirt on you to ensure that you’ll reconsider.”

McCree let out a snort, amused Olivia hadn’t changed over the year long radio silence. “Damn, willin’ to drag me through the mud for yer girl, must be somethin’ special.” Jesse paused for a moment, smirking. “So, when do I getta meet her?”

Olivia made some embarrassed noise under her breath as she waved him off, cheeks flushed. “You… you wouldn’t like her, she’s a _big_  fan of spiders.” He wasn’t sure how that indicated that he wouldn’t want to meet the woman Olivia was seeing, the younger one had dragged him along enough times in the past to meet other lovers she had, some he approved of, some he didn’t, one fellow got his face smashed in when Jesse caught him slipping something into Olivia’s drink.

Why Olivia was being so shy about this woman, unlike her other ventures, he’d never know, but he wouldn’t push it further.

Before he could say more, something moved just outside his field of view, quickly turning to see an omnic in a black waistcoat and white shirt coming towards them. Olivia seemed to see the omnic as well, tensing up on his arm as her nails dug into the flesh slightly. In hindsight, he should have offered her the metal arm if he knew she liked to dig in.

“Buona sera signore e signora , good evening sir and madam. Vuoi una visita guidata? Would you like a guided tour?” It mildly fucked with Jesse hearing the words he was trying to translate to English in his head, he always needed a minute to translate Italian on the best of days and today was no different.

Quick as a whip, faster than Olivia could decline, Jesse nodded, holding back a shit eating grin as her long nails dug into his arm harshly to display her disapproval quietly. “Sure, mighty fine ya came along when ya did, we were just wonderin’ ‘bout some of the pieces.” The omnic seemed pleased to have something to do as they nodded, turning and gesturing to the piece they had been sitting at before the omnic had wandered over.

For the first time in a long time, Jesse allowed himself to relax and listen to the guide as they spoke of the installments, the artist an omnic woman named Leonora Botruvio, who was a celebrated artist within the art community.

As their guide continued to explain each piece and give its history, more people joined in, Jesse able to feel Olivia press her side closer to his as she grew more tense. He wasn’t surprised, she didn’t care for normal social interactions most of the time. She could ruin a person’s life in seconds if she truly wanted to, he knew for that reason she had very little people within her social circle that she liked, let alone trusted. Not to mention the Omnic Crisis completely tore both of their lives asunder, leaving Olivia orphaned, forced to fend for herself, and Jesse stuck with Deadlock then eventually shipped off to Blackwatch.

Finally, the tour came to an end, the small group they had collected dispersing quite quickly while McCree made sure he and Olivia stuck around. He tipped an invisible hat to the omnic, sending them a kind smile. “Thank ya for yer time.” The omnic simply dipped their head, hands folded behind their back. “S’all right if I tip ya?”

He was sure if an omnic could blush, the one before him would have turned beat red as their hands came forward, giving a small shake of his head. “O-oh, sir, that’s not necessary, it is my pleasure to give guided tours of the installations.”

Jesse shook his head, pulling out a wallet that looked more like two pieces of fabric stitched together than something one of his persona’s social status would have. He pulled out a couple hundreds, quick to place them in the omnic’s hands, closing their hands around the bills. “I _want_  to, it ain’t any skin off my back.” He didn’t mention the fact that, whenever he saw an omnic, it reminded him of Deadlock and made him guilty. He would quietly help when he could until the guilt went away (though he was mighty sure it never would).

The omnic was speechless for a moment before bowing deeply. “Thank you sir, I wish you and your companion safe travels.” McCree tipped the invisible hat again, turning and leading Olivia out into the cooler evening air.

“That was a surprisingly touching moment.” She commented quietly, Jesse giving a half shrug.

“The Omnic Crisis ain’t all their faults, no point bein’ rude to all of ‘em.”

Quietly and almost somberly, the two slipped into a nearby café, Olivia choosing the table closest to the counter but far enough in the back to almost go unnoticed in the near empty room. Jesse was fine with that, he knew the owner of the joint and was confident that they were safe for now.

“So, your payment.”

Jesse let out a small chuckle as he leaned back in his seat, the mood lightening back up as he crossed his arms over his chest. “That ain’t how this works, Liv, flash drive first.” The younger one rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath that sounded like Spanish, popping out a small purple and silver flash drive with her stylized sugar skull in a reddish-orange colour that she held between her index and middle finger.

He was quick to take it from her, rotating it around to inspect it. It wouldn’t be the first time she had handed him a fake. He had been short on cash and she had, in return, only given him a flash drive with half of the information he needed. He eventually figured out her cryptic clues to finish the job, but he wasted _weeks_  trying to fill in some of the gaping blanks.

Right now, he absolutely _needed_  this drive to have every single piece of information she had.

“Now, I held up my half of the deal, your turn.” Both sets of brown eyes met, Olivia giving a tiny smirk as she quirked up an eyebrow.

Subtly, McCree leaned forward, Olivia mimicking as she suddenly brought her hands up to prop her head up. “Can’t quite say who’s all back yet, but the band’s comin’ back t’gether.” A small flash of confusion crossed Olivia’s face before Jesse continued. “Overwatch’s back in business.”

Her eyes got comedically wide, Jesse unable to suppress his smirk entirely. “But the Pretras Act… there’s no way it’s legal.”

“It ain’t, but when’s that ever stopped us?” He teased, Olivia letting out a snort. “I can give ya names, but you gotta wait a month to sell this intel.”

“Why a month?”

“Can’t let’em know _I_  was the one to give it to ya, still buildin’ up trust and shit.”

Olivia was quiet for a moment as she leaned back in her chair, Jesse easily able to see the gears turning. “I don’t get it, isn’t Overwatch your family or something? Why are you selling them out?”

Never had Jesse wished he had his hat to hide his face more than right this moment, casting his eyes down and away to the floor. “Hard t’feel somethin’ towards the people who found it mighty convenient to blame everythin’ on ya.” He paused, mulling over his thoughts and what he deemed would be too much to tell an excellent blackmailer. “Besides, my only family was killed in the explosion that he and I apparently caused.” He refused to look up, he didn’t want to see the look of pity he was sure Olivia would be sending.

Obviously not everyone held a grudge against him, Angela looked nothing but relieved to see him again, Lena’s little arms around his waist hugging him close, Reinhardt ready to get piss drunk in celebration, Brigitte ready to defend his honour despite not even knowing him, Fareeha chiding him for not coming home sooner. After the reunion meeting with the group, meeting new and old faces, it was easy to tell who believed he had done Overwatch in. Torbjörn in particular gave him a nasty look as he pointedly kept away, and the sweet and kind Mei had held back from anything more than a timid ‘hello’ and a handshake. She hadn’t been there when the fall happened, but clearly she had read up on the official reports that were written and published publicly. Everyone else seemed to hate or like him in varying degrees, but he was just glad to find out the Swiss base as well as the old Overwatch days were banned topics.

“Why did you go back to them if you hate them all?”

“Why’re ya a double agent?”

Olivia let out a scoff. “My interests don’t align with Talon, but it’s easier to take an organization down from the inside.” She gave a pause. “But I know your interests line up with Overwatch, so excuse my confusion.” Olivia snarked, crossing her arms over her chest.

She wasn’t wrong, both he and the others wanted to end Talon and save the world, but, seemingly unlike the others, only McCree could see how their larger actions messed with the little guys, the everyday civilians. The old Overwatch played by the rules, waiting for permission, sent out only in times of a crisis, did everything by the books, but it was Blackwatch that threw all that out. How many lives had the small team saved while Overwatch was forced to wait for the United Nations to give the go ahead? He still didn’t agree with what Reyes had done to Antonio, but with his death came a power struggle within Talon that they were able to track, leading to more busts that Overwatch took advantage of.

It was through that one death that lead them to Maximilien, finding out he was Doomfist’s financier. The omnic didn’t spill anything, but it had seemingly got Doomfist anxious and out in the open, that’s all Overwatch needed to send Winston, Lena, and himself out to arrest him.

McCree couldn’t help but wonder though, how many lives had they completely destroyed because Overwatch had bigger fish to fry and couldn’t be bothered to help the civilians they had unintentionally screwed over by the power shift within Talon? Of course arresting Doomfist was important, but clearly it was all for nothing since he had broke out. Why couldn’t they have sent out smaller units to help those in the wake of Antonio’s death? Why couldn’t they be doing what McCree had since he left? Sure, he was a one man band at the moment, but he had been making infinitely more progress than Overwatch had.

“I need money to keep travelin’ as much as I do.” He replied easily, giving a small shrug. It wasn’t a complete lie, he certainly did need more money, but it wasn’t for traveling, it was to rebuild people’s lives. He didn’t want another kid thinking it was their duty to leave home, join a gang, and send home any pitiful scraps they got just because no one could be bothered even a _little_  with helping a war torn state.

Olivia didn’t look convinced but seemed to know better than to argue. “Whatever, not my business yet,” she let out a small chuckle before suddenly sighing and holding out her hand. “Give me the drive back, it only had half the data you’ll need.”

Glad for having the conversation shift away from the cowboy, he gave her a grin to mask his inner turmoil, pressing a hand to his chest. “Olivia, I can’t believe ya would’ve swindled me!”

She let out a snort as he pulled the flash drive out of his pocket and handed it back to her. “I have to protect myself somehow, you know how many people sell me fake information every day?” She quickly set a different flash drive in his hand, visually similar except the sugar skull was stark white instead of a reddish-orange.

Before they could decide what to do next, Olivia suddenly sat bolt upright, eyes widening slightly. “Shit,” she hissed in Spanish, suddenly reaching into her little purse and sliding a pair of glasses to Jesse as she switched back to English. “Put those on and glance over to the tv under the counter.”

“What—”

“Just put them on!” She hissed quietly, tapping her nails nervously against the table.

He wanted to question how she could possibly know there was a television under the counter, he only knew about it because he had watched the owner bend down to turn it off and on once or twice back when the Rome base was up and running.

Doing as he was told without protest, he slid on the glasses and had to hold in a gasp as he could suddenly see profiles beside everyone’s heads. He could see police records, name changes, social insurance numbers, birth dates, immediate family, _everything_.

He couldn’t help but look at Olivia only to be met with much of her file missing, he wasn’t sure if it was intentional on her part or that whatever government databases she had hacked into didn’t have anything on her.

Finally, he glanced over to the counter, able to see the screen through the thick wood as well as subtitles popping up beside the screen to translate the spoken language to English. He wasn’t sure what had caught Olivia’s attention at first, it seemed to just be the typical evening news, until the news anchors went to speak with another anchor on the scene with—

“Sonovabitch!” On the screen was the woman—Greta, was it?—speaking quickly, saying she had driven the famous outlaw, Jesse McCree in disguise, into Rialto to meet with a woman.

The subtitles quickly informed him that she had only done it out of fear of her life, McCree grinding his teeth in frustration. As if he would’ve hurt a defenceless woman, though now he wasn’t quite so sure a snitch counted as innocent.

“We need to go.” Olivia hissed, swiping the glasses from his face and roughly shoved them back in her purse as she stood.

McCree nodded in agreement, knowing that some sort of military would be coming for him sooner rather than later. As he moved to stand, an older man quickly walked over, looking nervous. “I almost didn’t recognize you,” he started with a deep accent, Jesse unintentionally slipping a hand into his pocket to grab the pocket knife sitting against his hip. “You used to come here with that French fellow before your Overwatch base in Rome got destroyed.” _Gérard_ , he mentally supplied, releasing the grip of the hidden blade.

“I’ve never much liked politics,” the old man continued, “but you have really done some good despite what the news says.” He glanced around, McCree mimicking, before he gave a gentle tug to McCree’s shirt. “Come with me, I can sneak you both out of here.”

Jesse cast a look to Olivia, she looked reluctant, but McCree decided that, if the man betrayed them, the two of them could easily take whatever awaited them. “Alright, lead the way.”

The man nodded, turning to head behind the counter. McCree was quick to grab the hacker’s hand, pulling her along as they slipped behind the counter. “McCree,” she hissed quietly, pausing both himself and their impromptu guide as they moved out of sight from the main room. “Get out of here yourself, my translocator’s up.” That made sense, of course she would have thought about getting out fast if she needed to.

“Alright, take care, and remember; you’ve gotta wait a month!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, now get out of here, I want to see how high you can get your bounty.” McCree barked out a laugh, turning back to follow the old man as he heard the telltale noise of Olivia recalling back to her translocator.

The man gave a nod, looking mildly surprised, but continued on, leading Jesse down a narrow set of stairs. “This leads to a cellar, and through there we have a secret tunnel that opens up to an old storm drain.”

“Storm drain?” McCree echoed, the man nodding.

“The entrance got closed up in the 1930’s, but no one ever came to seal up the exit.” They came to a stop at a solid looking door, the man typing in a code to the keypad. “It’s about 25 kilometres to the exit if you keep to the most left when it branches out, it’ll lead you to a dried up river.” Jesse followed the man into the cellar, quickly converting the distance in his head to imperial.

“15 and a half miles don’t sound mighty fine to walk.”

“You could try leaving the same way you came in, though I suppose it would be much harder considering people know who they’re looking for now.”

Jesse let out a small huff, watching as the man pulled up several floorboards. “15 and a half miles suddenly sounds _great_  t’walk.”

“That’s the spirit.” The old man said dryly, standing back up with a huff and grunt, reaching for an old fashioned map.

Jesse leaned in to get a better look, not having seen a paper one since his Deadlock days. “Didn’t know they still made ‘em like this.” He said, unable to keep the mild surprise out of his voice.

The old man seemed to swell with pride, unable to keep a small smile off his face. “Most places don’t, I drew and mapped this out myself.” Well, he was certainly impressed, wondering how long this man had spent sitting on his escape plan. “The grate at the end will be locked, but I don’t doubt a man of your caliber will have troubles with that.” McCree let out a small chuckle, the man directing his small smile to McCree. “Now hurry, the sooner you’re out of Venice, the better.”

McCree nodded, glancing down to see a hole just wide enough for him to jump down. “Before I go, what’s yer name? Might send a postcard with a nice lookin’ cheque.”

The man let out a soft laugh, giving a small shake of his head. “You don’t have to pay me for my kindness, Mr. McCree, but if it will help you sleep at night, my name is Niccolò Nardelli.”

Jesse gave a small tip of an invisible hat. “Many thanks to ya, Mr. Nardelli.” Niccolò gave a clipped nod, Jesse looking back down before jumping in.

At once, the tunnel fell into darkness as Niccolò covered up the entrance, McCree grumbling to himself as he fished out his communicator and found he had _just_  enough bars to make a quick call to Lena.

Before he could even get out a ‘hello’, Lena spoke first. “ _I saw your face on the news, luv, where’d you hole up?_ ”

“Nowhere, this old fella lead me down to an abandoned storm drain from the 1900’s, ‘parently it’s about 25 kilometres long through the shortest set of drains, ends in some sort of dried up river.” McCree let out a small hum, tapping a metal finger to his chin. “Reckon that’s ‘bout a five hour walk, yeah?”

“ _Athena just ran a simulation, she thinks you could cut that down quite a bit if you jog for most of it._ ”

“Sweetheart, I don’t jog.” Lena let out a muffled laugh, the young Brit most likely covering her mouth as to not seem so rude. “I’ll ping ya my location once I’m out, stay outta sight ‘til then.”

“ _You got it, I’ll make sure Winston knows we’ll be delayed getting back._ ”

They exchanged goodbyes quickly, Jesse wanting to get going as soon as he could.

He stalled a few seconds longer by entering Niccolò’s name and the café into a notes tab in his communicator, quickly typing out he owed money. He was not looking forward to the blisters he would get from the new boots, but he wasn’t sure what could be on the ground that he could step in, so he let out a huff and decided he would just suck it up.

The five hours went by without much interest, he found a half crumbled part of the wall which he had the absolute _pleasure_  of watching a rat scurry into. As he walked away from the entrance, he had quickly lost service but his communicator had become a flashlight anyways. His feet ached like nothing else, the new boots doing their very best to get Jesse to hate them. About two hours into his walk he had _really_  debated carrying the boots, but if he stepped on something that needed more treatment than anything he could do, he _knew_  it would give Angela a chance to bench him longer and he didn’t want that, so he would continue to quietly suffer.

Finally, after five hours and 25 kilometres, he was able to _just_  see the grate at the end of the tunnel, quick to pick up the pace as he turned off the communicator and shoved it into his pocket.

He came to a stop at the grate, peering out into the night to see a small fire and some people, most likely teens, and some horrible sounding techno music playing. At least the noise that was an excuse for music would cover any noise he would make by opening the grate.

Jesse dropped down to one knee, examining the old age lock that was just a keyhole in the grate. Luckily, thanks to his Deadlock days and Ashe’s insisting, he had plenty of experience will all sorts of locks.

Pulling back, he held out his prosthetic arm, rolling up the sleeve and popped open a small slot near the bend of his elbow, a barebone lock picking kit stowed away for these types of emergencies.

With the finesse of a man picking a lock in the dark, he managed good enough and popped the grate open with no problems, and after the day he had, he was glad this was the hardest part of escaping thus far.

McCree quietly jumped down into the old riverbed, quick to shut the grate behind him and relock it, giving a nod to himself before slinking into the shadows and making his way south, away from the teens. No need to freak them out if they knew about his presence in Rialto.

Once a good distance away with the fire only a tiny dot and the music a dull hum, he pulled out his communicator, quickly pinging his location to Lena, continuing moseying his way south as he waited for the Brit to arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for such a long delay, i got caught up trying to figure out how to write/characterize sombra, i think i'm sorta getting it now? but for some reason i'm not completely happy with it or with how the chapter turned out, but rather than agonize about it, i'm posting it since the next chapter is damn near done
> 
> also, 5k words, lowkey expected it to be around 2k or less, so i'm mildly proud of myself despite hating this chapter
> 
> As always, feedback and constructive criticism is welcomed and greatly appreciated!!
> 
> ~~anything not in english was translated through google, so pls forgive me if something is wrong~~


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all get this chapter early since i missed my 'middle-ish of the month' deadline for the last chapter
> 
> edit 9/10/19: corrected minor grammar mistakes and punctuation.

“Is the blindfold _really_  necessary at this point? We took two rights, then a left, then we walked down the hall for about fifty-seven steps, before finally making another left into this room.” Said blindfold was ripped from his head, bright overhead lights temporarily blinding Genji as he squinted his eyes.

“Be quiet unless I ask you to speak.” Doctor O’Deorain’s voice was deadpan as per usual as she shut and locked the door behind him, Genji allowing his eyes to adjust to the bright white lights as the doctor made her way to the control booth.

He took this time to examine the room, wondering what lovely tests he’d be put through today.

The plain white room was mostly empty, a small weapons rack with several different poles made of wood resting against the metal rack. There were also a couple gym mats on the ground that looked somewhat cheap, mild dread filling him at the thought of fighting someone. It wasn’t that he was afraid he’d lose, even starved and forced to sit around a glorified cage most of the day, he knew he was the smartest assassin (on par with his brother, of course) in the facility. He just didn’t want to give O’Deorain more data to work with than they already had.

Besides the poles, mats, and Genji himself, the room was barren. _Much like her sex life_ , came Genji’s intrusive thoughts, unable to stop the corner of his mouth from tipping up in unbridled teenage-like amusement.

“ _Are you ready, Mr. Shimada?_ ” Asked O’Deorain, her voice coming from a speaker somewhere in the room.

Genji glanced over to the one-way mirror, rolling his eyes as he put on a show, stretching his arms above his head. “I don’t think so, I didn’t get a chance to do my morning stretches,” he paused to reach down to touch his toes, “or is it nightly stretches?” He rose back up to twist his torso one way then the other. “It’s hard to tell when there’s no clocks or windows.” He sent a glance to the mirror, smirking.

“ _You truly are a disappointing man._ ”

“Aw, come on, you just _adore_  me, O’Deorain.”

She must have not clicked the mic off as a huff came through, Genji holding in a snicker. “ _Pick a staff from the rack and summon the spirit._ ”

“Straight to the point like always, did you know that’s considered, to most playboys like myself, as being rude in the bedroom?” He gave a small pause, prolonging the inevitable with a hand coming up to stroke his beard in faux contemplation. He couldn’t wait to shave it off the first chance he got, it was bad enough he was catching up in the streaks of grey department like Hanzo.

“More rather,” he continued on, “being rude _anywhere_ , scenes don’t have to be bedroom exclusive. If you’d like, I can give you some pointers since you seem like you’ve hit a dry spell, maybe you’d let up some and stop thinking that it’s a-okay to experiment on people if I helped you get some.”

Genji couldn’t hold back his grin as he heard at least _one_  muffled laugh through the speaker, but Doctor O’Deorain didn’t seem to be in one of her neutral moods today as she answered swiftly and sharply. “ _We can always disable your brother’s other leg, maybe perhaps remove them all together. He would be much more malleable if he were unable to resist my experiments, don’t you think?_ ”

Genji’s smirk turned to a scowl as he glared at the mirror. “No, that won’t be happening.”

“ _Then go pick a staff and summon the dragon._ ”

Begrudgingly, Genji made his way to the rack, unsure what the different lengths meant and if O’Deorain intended for him to try them all.

He decided to pick a staff that came up to about his hips, feeling mildly homesick as he thought about his beloved katana back in Japan. When they got out of here, Genji would be sure to show the doctor just how deadly they could be _without_  their dragons.

He spun the staff in his hands a few times, getting acquainted with the weight of the flimsy piece of wood, stalling. _Please, just stay away_ , he silently begged the bundle of energy that he had come to understand was the dragon spirit.

“ _Firstly, I’d like you to hold out your arm with the staff and try to summon it like that._ ”

Hanzo and himself had somewhat talked about this, during times when one or the other was on the verge of passing out since it had apparently been a sensitive topic for Hanzo. The dragon’s required a direct line from their tattoos to the weapon the very few times they had managed to summon them. Hanzo had to hold a weapon in his left arm and Genji had to draw his weapon from his back. At this point, O’Deorain knew this too, so he wasn’t sure what she was building up to.

“You _know_  it doesn’t work like that, so why bother trying?” He gave a short pause. “Gods above, I doubt I’ll even be able to summon it today.” It was a lie, more filler to pad his runtime. The energy stored along his spine told him that, no, it was ready to break free from the cage that was his tattoo.

“ _I am aware, just do as you’re told._ ”

Genji let out a small huff, begrudgingly holding out his arm with the pole. “I summon thee, o great spirit dragon.” He muttered, rolling his eyes when, surprise surprise, the green dragon didn’t appear.

“ _Good, now place the weapon down on the ground and use your arm as the conductor with your back._ ” Genji tensed up, he had never summoned it like that before. As far as the brothers and scientist knew, there needed to be a conductor and it had only seemed to work with something that could be used as a weapon. “ _We are waiting, Mr. Shimada._ ”

Hesitantly, he set the pole down, trying to ignore how it suddenly felt like the energy within him doubled. He was going to die, he was sure of it.

With a shaky hand, he reached up and over his shoulder, palm resting along the base of his neck. _Please don’t kill me_ , he silently begged.

Genji’s gasp filled the otherwise quiet room, feeling an almost burning sensation on his hand and along his arm as he felt the dragon’s energy leave him. He quickly pulled his hand away to his chest, as one would do when burned, and came face to face with the dragon for the third time since O’Deorain played with their genetic code.

A high pitched woman’s voice thundered in his mind this time though, his eyes widening further as he saw the dragon’s mouth move ever so slightly.

_You are not ready._

And just like that, the dragon surged back into him, causing Genji to scream as the burn followed her through his body, never having this happen before.

He dropped to the ground, curling in on himself as the heat tore through him, not one spot on Genji’s body safe from her-- it-- the _monster’s_  touch. Everything was ringing, he couldn’t hear anything as his breathing sped up, his heart threatening to crawl up and out of his throat. He felt like he was drowning on his own breath, unable to fill his lungs no matter how much he tried.

Briefly, somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew this was a panic attack.

When he was younger he had them more frequently, especially after the elders told Hanzo to kill him, but as he grew older they began to happen only when he completely lost control. The burning and overall feeling of dying was certainly the trigger, if only he could just calm down like Zenyatta had taught them, and he tried for a moment, trying to regain his breath and peace of mind. But, as he covered his ears with his hands and curled even tighter into the fetal position, all he could think of was that death was certain and everything had spiraled out of his control past the point of recapture.

And the _burning_. Everything felt like it was on fire, his skin, his lungs, his eyes, hands, feet, hair, nose, nails, teeth, _everything_.

For the first time in a long time, Genji’s thoughts went back to _that_  night, the night Sojiro woke him and told Genji of what the elders had commanded Hanzo to do, his older brother standing by the door with a guilty look, unable to meet his eyes. That look had never quite left Hanzo’s eyes, catching it when his brother thought Genji wasn’t looking.

When he tried to go back to bed, all he could think of was Hanzo coming at him with his blade, slicing him into a million pieces, leaving him for some feral animal to eat. Thankfully, his father had understood, and, at 17 years old, was allowed to crawl into his father’s futon for the first time since he was 5 as he cried himself to sleep, terrified to never wake again.

Before, Zenyatta would only have private sessions with Hanzo, Genji always having a family session with his father and brother or alone with only Hanzo. After the humiliation of sleeping with his father, Zenaytta spent most of Genji’s days when he wasn’t busy getting drunk and high with companionship, Genji able to unload everything on the omnic’s shoulders as they worked through the consequences of the elders’ actions. Even now, sixteen years later, Zenyatta was still there to speak with him, to soothe him after a rather rough night terror.

And now, Genji was alone, no omnic or brother to shield him from himself.

He remained in his own personal burning hell for what felt like years, until, _finally_ , he was able to make out several voices, the worst of the panic ebbing away as his breaths came in a little easier. Genji dared a peak up from his knees to find several medics surrounding him, administering different injections with not-so-small needles as well as being hooked up to what he assumed was an impromptu IV drip that one of the medics was holding.

O’Deorain was standing off to the side of the room, a holopad in her hands as she tapped something out, her assistant standing by her side as they quietly relayed information to the lead scientist.

Once their eyes met, O’Deorain made her way over, handing off her holopad to her assistant. “I see you’re back with us, were you aware you were crying for your brother for the last half an hour?” Genji remained silent, curling back up again as he looked away. “Regardless, I would like to know how you felt before your little episode, this was certainly new progress.”

“Go fuck yourself.” He croaked out, his throat feeling like it had been rubbed raw. He suddenly wondered if he _had_  been crying for Hanzo the entire time, half glad it hadn’t been Zenyatta’s name. He didn’t want to think about what she would do to the omnic to hurt the brothers further.

O’Deorain let out a tsk, crouching down in front of him and gripping his throat with her deformed hand, forcing him to sit up or be choked as those long nails dug into his skin. “I don’t have time for games, tell me what I want and we will conclude today’s session.”

Genji internally fought with himself. On one hand, he was so ready to just be done and over with this, but on the other, he didn’t want to help this bitch or Talon gain any information.

“Burned,” he muttered, “everything burned.”

O’Deorain let out a hum, letting go of his neck as she stood, gesturing to her assistant and at once they began typing away. “Go on.” She urged.

Genji weakly sat up on his knees, hunched over with his head bowed as he took in deep breaths, still feeling mildly breathless and achy, the heat lingering as if to mock him. “That’s it, it just burned.” He decidedly kept that the dragon spoke to himself, wanting to figure that out with his brother alone.

She let out a non committal hum, steepling her hands together. “Such a shame, out of you two, you’re the one who gives me more information that I can use.” O’Deorain gestured to the medics around Genji, and at once they were trying to help him stand.

His eyes lit up suddenly, smirking inwardly as he looked up to the scientist from the ground. “Actually, there was one other thing,” he paused as she turned to face him, “you’re a cold hearted bitch who’ll never have anyone to hold or love, and I hope one day I’ll be the one to kill you.” Just as O’Deorain rolled her eyes, Genji grabbed one of the many syringes resting on the floor that had yet to be picked up and jumped at the woman, both falling to the floor as he pulled his arm back as stabbed into her neck, repeating the action as fast as he could to try and end everything right here, right now.

As expected, he was pulled back by several of the medics as they disarmed him, both himself and O’Deorain covered in her blood. Genji almost let out a wail as she slowly sat up, leaning on one arm as she was suddenly holding up a large, golden orb in her good hand that came from a little device in her palm, a small stream flowing towards her neck as the wounds healed and sealed back up.

“You will regret that, Shimada.”

Lightening fast, she reached forward, digging her nails into his scalp as she twisted his long hair around in her hand, beginning to drag him towards the door.

He cried out in pain, trying to get to his feet, but one of the guards following only smirked and kept kicking his feet out from under him, ensuring that he would feel the painful pulling the entire way. “Prepare Subject Sigma for trials,” O’Deorain snapped to her assistant as she turned her head to spit out blood, Genji barely hearing as he clung to her wrist to try and lessen the pull on his hair. He couldn’t believe how much strength she held for such a tall and lanky woman.

Finally, he was thrown down onto the ground, feeling familiar calloused hands pulling him away from O’Deorain. He glanced up to find Hanzo staring at the scientist, turning to see her cold, glaring eyes were on him. “Perhaps you should teach your brother his place.” She hissed, glancing over to Hanzo before she turned and slammed the cell door shut.

Before Hanzo could chastise Genji, a short woman with a half shaved head and the tips of her hair dyed purple just... _appeared_  in the room, O’Deorain glancing over with her ever unimpressed look. “What do you want, Sombra?” She snapped.

Genji perked up at that despite his throbbing head and aching chest, he had heard of this ‘Sombra’ before, but he had assumed it was an entire organization, not one woman. Knowing what Sombra had done in the past, he suddenly had a newfound respect for her abilities to hack anything and anyone single handedly.

Of course it crossed his mind that this woman could simply be a representative for the hacker group, but it felt wrong to think that Talon wouldn’t want direct contact to talk business. Especially one that seemingly had an endless supply of blackmail.

“Aw, is that how you greet a friend?” Sombra wasn’t dignified a response by the doctor, the shorter woman letting out a huff as she rolled her eyes. “A little birdy told me that someone is coming to raid the base.” Seemingly, that made O’Deorain tense up, standing just a little taller.

“Who? Is it Overwatch?” She demanded, turning to face Sombra fully.

The shorter one shrugged, pulling out a phone from her pocket as she began to type away. “Dunno, sounds like some new mercenary group.” New mercenary group? What hot-shot group of people thought they could bring down Talon? Even the Shimada’s knew not to fuck with these people and had kept declining all invitations as nicely sounding as possible, Genji and Hanzo forced into many business meetings alongside their father and the elders with Akande and his merry band of sadists.

O’Deorain stood there quietly for a moment before turning to one of the nearby scientists. “Cancel todays test with Subject Sigma and get him ready to be moved to district 93, ensure that guards are tripled and constantly on high alert.” At once, Genji watched with amazement as her fellow scientists scattered from the room, pulling up holopads and phones as they moved to set her plans in motion, dozens of different languages popping up as calls and messages ended and restarted.

“What about the dragon boys over there?” The hacker asked, glancing over towards the brothers.

The older woman was silent for a long moment before simply letting out a hum. “I have spent too much time and resources on Subject Sigma for this little parasitic group to capture him, but no one knows the Shimada’s are here, I have little worry of what happens to them regardless.” Her mix-matched eyes met Genji’s, and he couldn’t help the cocky little smirk that danced on his lips.

“Aw, I’m sure you don’t mean that, doc.” He felt Hanzo pinch him sharply just above his elbow, but he waited until O’Deorain broke eye contact first before he turned away.

Once they were left alone, O’Deorain having stormed off with several guards and Sombra vanishing again, Hanzo moved them to lean against the back of the cell. “Genji,” he started, sounding tired, older than he actually was as his eyes took in the bloody form of his brother. “What did you do now?”

“Nothing new,” he lied, not needing to hear a lecture of self-preservation or how he lacked any.

Hanzo looked ready to argue, but remained silent, only nodding. “We need to devise a plan.” Hanzo said, changing subjects though it confused Genji since the older one usually never left an argument so open ended.

“A plan for what? Getting out? It’s cute you think we could even get past the guards on this floor.” He paused for a moment, suddenly letting out a clipped laugh. “And you heard her, no one knows we’re here, no one’s coming for us.”

Hanzo opened his mouth to argue, but Genji pushed on, not wanting to get his hopes up. “Anyways, I thought you’d like to know I was able to speak with the dragon.”

His brother’s eyes went comedically wide, staring at him intently. “You are not joking.” He breathed out, Genji shaking his head.

Hanzo moved, looking stunned as he leaned up against the wall, his mind looking to have been running a hundred kilometres per hour. “What did it say?” He asked, sounding nearly out of breath, both sets of brown eyes meeting.

“She told me I wasn’t ready yet,” Genji paused, “whatever _that_  means.”

“‘She’?”

Genji gave a half-hearted shrug. “She, it, whatever, it had a woman’s voice, I just thought it was fitting.”

Both brothers fell into silence, Hanzo seeming to be stewing in his thoughts while Genji set to task on rubbing off the dried blood, glad that for once it wasn’t his own.

“Could you talk to it again?” Hanzo finally asked, Genji tensing up. “Ask it,” Hanzo paused as he gave a small shake of his head, “ask her to help the group who is coming to raid the base?”

Genji opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to decide if the intense burning pain was worth it or if this was just another fruitless attempt at hoping for a better ending. “Hanzo,” he started with a sigh, running a hand through his slowly greying hair.

His older brother shook his head again before speaking up, Hanzo’s eyes seeming to shine a little brighter. “She is our only hope, Genji, if she can help us, then we can go home.”

He slowly looked back to Hanzo as he heard that word, hoping to any god listening that his brother was right. “We,” he paused, “we can go home?” Hanzo only nodded, Genji almost breathless of the idea.

Genji was suddenly unable to reel in his emotions as he brought Hanzo into a hug, hiding his face away in his chest as he felt himself begin to shake. _Home_ , he thought, suddenly feeling like it was within their grasp.

After about three months or so of being locked up, they had abandoned all hope Sojiro would find them, they had resigned themselves to the thought of never seeing Hanamura again. They both knew how the clan was. If they hadn’t already found them, they never would. O’Deorain would either kill them with her trials or force them to join Talon. Either way, Genji had thought that, at seeing what kind of men the brothers were, they didn’t deserve a happy ending anyways.

Hanzo hugged him back just as tightly, a soothing hand running over his tattoo. “Soon, ototo, soon.” He cooed, Genji unable to stop the fragile hope that fluttered up into his chest. “You have to convince her.”

Genji pulled back and nodded, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath, more determined than he had ever been since being locked up. “Please,” he whispered in Japanese, searching his soul for her again. “I know you said I wasn’t ready, but I can’t ever be if we’re stuck here, please help us go home, whatever the cost.” He heard Hanzo as he drew in a sharp breath but ignored him, squeezing his eyes shut tighter as he sought out the burning.

He must have found what he was looking for as neon green flames suddenly engulfed him, seeing piercing green eyes staring back at him as he began to burn, but he didn’t dare look away.

She stared at him, seemingly looking for something, but he refused to look away, putting on a brave face in hopes of impressing her. He was willing to do just about anything to prove that he needed her help in order for him to ever be ready for what she had in mind.

 _Fine,_  she hissed, and suddenly the burning was gone.

He opened his eyes, panting, but able to see what looked like a faint and thin green stream of energy glide around their cell before leaving, Genji unable to feel any spirit energy at all within his body.

He turned to tell Hanzo the good news (or what he hoped was good news) when he saw his brother sitting cross legged, a little awkwardly because of the disabled prosthetic, head bowed and quietly speaking under his breath in Japanese.

Suddenly, Hanzo opened his eyes and they were a bright and brilliant ice blue. Two similar streams but blue pulled from Hanzo’s arm, circling both brothers before vanishing after Genji’s dragon.

A quiet fell over them both, Genji breaking it with a broken but happy laugh. “O-of course you would have t-two dragons!”

Hanzo let out a scoff, but a fond smile pulled at his lips. “Of course,” he agreed, “for I am never second best.” He sounded breathless, but his eyes were soft in a way Genji had never really seen before.

“What did they sound like?” He asked quietly, Hanzo letting out a small hum.

“It was hard to tell, they spoke as one, but I believe one was masculine and the other feminine.” The older Shimada gave a small shiver, rubbing a hand over the tattoo. “I felt like I was in the middle of winter, the air was cold and it ached to breathe in.”

Genji’s eyes lit up at that, scooting a little closer. “With my dragon, everything feels like it’s burning.” Both were quiet for a moment before Genji suddenly gave Hanzo a shit-eating grin. “See, I’m fiery and passionate, while you’re a stone-cold bitch.”

Hanzo let out a snort, shoving at Genji. “Excuse me for not choosing a new partner every night.”

“Or at _all_.” Genji teased, poking at Hanzo’s ribs. “When we get home, I’m introducing you to the world of one-night stands.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes, moving to lay on his side, head propped up with one hand. “The elders—”

“I’ll _also_  introduce you to the world of lying to the elders.” Hanzo opened his mouth to argue, but Genji pushed on. “They can suck it, I don’t see them swooping in to save us anytime soon. Serves them right, not coming after the heir and spare.”

Hanzo let out a chuckle at that, Genji thankful he managed to soothe any temper before it flared up beyond control. “I suppose one night of disobedience would be justice enough for them abandoning us.” Hanzo paused, suddenly smirking and holding back a laugh. “Or several nights.” Genji let out a small chuckle, moving to lay down on his back.

He doubted Hanzo would follow through once face-to-face with the elders, he tried too hard to be liked by them and it showed. Genji had watched him look longingly after someone, that person ending up taking an interest as well, but then Hanzo would back out because of the elders. Because he believed them when they said they would choose his ‘betrothed’ and should ‘remain chaste’ until then. That it would make him a better oyabun. No matter what their father said, no matter how many times Sojiro had admitted to his own deviant years before he met their mother or told his sons that tradition is what will eventually kill the clan, nothing could convince Hanzo.

It frustrated Genji, but Hanzo wouldn’t listen to him on personal matters. After everything the elders had put him through, Hanzo still sat and begged for their attention like a dog.

Suddenly, Hanzo reached over, placing a hand on Genji’s forearm. “We _will_  go home, Genji, we are one step closer.” He cast a small smile back at his older brother, forgetting his worries for now as he began to make a checklist of everything he would do when they got home, starting with getting high as fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back to regularly scheduled cowboy pov in the next chapter.
> 
> please tell me if i need to tag anything or put a warning before the start of this chapter, i thought it was fine but i'm mildly desensitized to this kind of stuff.
> 
> As always, feedback and constructive criticism is welcomed and greatly appreciated!


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